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A Poets`s Welcome to His Love-Begotten Daughter |
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Autor: Robert Burns
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Thou`s welcome, wean; mishanter fa` me,
If thoughts o` thee, or yet thy mammie,
Shall ever daunton me or awe me,
My sweet wee lady,
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca` me
Tyta or daddie.
Tho` now they ca` me fornicator,
An` tease my name in countra clatter,
The mair they talk, I`m kend the better,
E`en let them clash;
An auld wife`s tongue`s a feckless matter
To gie ane fash.
Welcome! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter,
Tho` ye come here a wee unsought for,
And tho` your comin` I hae fought for,
Baith kirk and queir;
Yet, by my faith, ye`re no unwrought for,
That I shall swear!
Sweet fruit o` monie a merry dint,
My funny toil is no a` tint,
Tho` thou cam to the warl` asklent,
Which fools may scoff at;
In my last plack thy part`s be in`t
The better ha`f o`t.
Tho` I should be the waur bestead,
Thou`s be as braw and bienly clad,
And thy young years as nicely bred
Wi` education,
As onie brat o` wedlock`s bed,
In a` thy station.
Wee image o` my bonie Betty,
As fatherly I kiss and daut thee,
As dear and near my heart I set thee
Wi` as gude will
As a` the priests had seen me get thee
That`s out o` hell.
Lord grant that thou may aye inherit
Thy mither`s person, grace, an` merit,
An` thy poor, worthless daddy`s spirit,
Without his failins,
`Twill please me mair to see thee heir it,
Than stockit mailens.
For if thou be what I wad hae thee,
And tak the counsel I shall gie thee,
I`ll never rue my trouble wi` thee -
The cost nor shame o`t,
But be a loving father to thee,
And brag the name o`t.
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