The Lum Hat Wantin' The Croon.

A poem by David Rorie

The burn was big wi' spate,
An' there cam' tum'lin' doon
Tapsalteerie the half o' a gate,
Wi' an auld fish-hake an' a great muckle skate,
An' a lum hat wantin' the croon!

The auld wife stude on the bank
As they gaed swirlin' roun',
She took a gude look an' syne says she:
"There's food an' there's firin' gaun to the sea,
An' a lum hat wantin' the croon!"

Sae she gruppit the branch o' a saugh,
An' she kickit aff ane o' her shoon,
An' she stuck oot her fit-but it caught in the gate,
An' awa' she went wi' the great muckle skate,
An' the lum hat wantin' the croon!

She floatit fu' mony a mile,
Past cottage an' village an' toon,
She'd an awfu' time astride o' the gate,
Though it seemed to gree fine wi' the great muckle skate,
An' the lum hat wantin' the croon!

A fisher was walkin' the deck,
By the licht o' his pipe an' the mune,
When he sees an auld body astride o' a gate,
Come bobbin' alang in the waves wi' a skate,
An' a lum hat wantin' the croon!

"There's a man overboord!" cries he,
"Ye leear!" says she, "I'll droon!
A man on a boord! It's a wife on a gate,
It's auld Mistress Mackintosh here wi' a skate,
An' a lum hat wantin' the croon!"

Was she nippit to death at the Pole?
Has India bakit her broon?
I canna tell that, but whatever her fate,
I'll wager ye'll find it was shared by a skate,
An' a lum hat wantin' the croon!

There's a moral attached to my sang,
On greed ye should aye gie a froon,
When ye think o' the wife that was lost for a gate,
An' auld fish-hake an' a great muckle skate,
An' a lum hat wantin' the croon!

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