The SPEECH of a FIFE LAIRD
Newly come from the Grave.
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WHat Accident, what strange Mishap
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Awakes me from my Heavnly Nap?
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What Sprit? What God-head by the lave,
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Hath raisd my Body from the Grave?
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It is a hundred Years almost,
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Since I was burid in the Dust,
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And now I think that I am living,
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Or else, but doubt, my Brains are raving;
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Yet do I feel (while as I study)
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The Faculties of all my Body:
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I Taste, I Smell, I Touch, I Hear,
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I find my Sight exceeding clear:
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Then Im alive, yea sure I am,
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I know it by my Corpral Frame:
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But in what part where I can be,
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My wavring Brains yet torture me.
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Once I was called a great Fife Laird,
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I dwelt not far from the Hall-yard:
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But who enjoys my Land and Pleugh,
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My Castle, and my fine Coal-heugh:
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I can find out no living Man,
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Can tell me this, do what I can
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Yet if my Memry serve me well,
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This is the Shire where I did dwell;
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This is the Part where I was born:
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For so beneath me stands Kinghorn:
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And thereabout the Lowmond Hill
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Stands as it stood yet ever still.
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There is Bruntisland, Aberdore,
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I see Fifes Coast along the Shore,
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Yet I am right, and for my Life,
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This is my native Country Fife,
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O! but tis long and many a Year,
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Since last my Feet did travel here.
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I find great Change in old Lairds Places,
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I know the Ground, but not the Faces,
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Where shall I turn me first about,
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For my Acquaintance is worn out?
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O! this is strange, that evn in Fife,
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I do know neither Man nor Wife;
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No Earl, no Lord, no Laird, no People,
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But Lesly and the Mark Inch-Steeple,
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Old Noble Weems, and that is all,
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I think enjoy their Fathers Hall.
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For from Dumfermling to Fife-ness
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I do know none that doth possess
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His Grandsires Castles and his Towrs:
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All is away that once was ours.
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Im full of Wrath, I scorn to tarrie,
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I know them no more than the Fairie:
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But I admire and marvel strange
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What is the Cause of this great Change.
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I hear a murmuring Report,
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Passing among the Common Sort:
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For some say this, and some say that,
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And others tell, I know not what:
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Some say the Fife Lairds ever rues,
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Since they began to take the Lews:
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That Bargain first did brew their Bale,
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As tell the honest Men of Creil.
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Some do ascribe their Supplantation,
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Unto the Lawyers Congregation.
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No, but this is a false Suppose:
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For all things wyts that well not goes.
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Be what it will, there is some Source
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Hath bred this universal Curse;
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This Transmigration and Earthquake,
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That causd the Lairds of Fife to break.
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He that enthrones a Shepherdling,
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He that dethrones a potent King;
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And he that makes a Cotter Laird,
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The Barons Bairns to delve a Yard:
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Almighty, He that shakes the Mountains,
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And brings great Rivers from small Fountains
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It is the Power of his Hand,
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That makes both Lords and Lairds have Land.
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Yet there, may be, as all Men knaws
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An Evident and well seen Cause,
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A publick and a common Evil,
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That made the meikle Master Devil
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To cast his Club all Fife throughout,
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And lent each Laird a deadly Rout.
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Mark then, Ill tell you, how it was,
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What way this Wonder came to pass:
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It sets me best the Truth to Pen,
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Because I fear no Mortal Men.
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When I was born at Middle-yard weight,
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There was no word of Laird or Knight,
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The greatest Stiles of Honour then,
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Was to be titled the Good-Man.
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But changing Time hath changd the Case,
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And puts a Laird in th Good-mans place.
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For Why? my Gossip Good-man John,
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And honest James, whom I think on;
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When we did meet whiles at the Hawking,
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We usd no Cringes but Hands shaking,
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No Bowing, Shouldring, Gambo-scraping,
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No French Whistling, or Dutch gaping.
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We had no Garments in our Land,
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But what were spun by th Gooodwifes hand:
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No Drap de-berry, Cloaths of seal:
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No Stuffs ingraind in Cocheneel,
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No Plush, no Tissue, Cramosie;
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No China, Turky Taffety;
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No proud Pyropus, Paragon,
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Or Chackarally, there was none,
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No Figurata, or Water-chamblet:
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No Bishop-satine, or Silk-chamblet,
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No Cloth of Gold, or Bever-hats,
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We cared no more for, than the Cats:
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No windy flourishd flying Feathers,
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No sweet permusted shambo Leathers,
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No Hilt or Crampet richly hatched:
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A Lance, a Sword in hand we snatched.
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Such base and B[o]yish Vanities,
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Did not beseem our Dignities:
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We were all ready and compleat,
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Stout for our Friends, on Horse or Feet,
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True to our Prince to shed our Blood,
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For Kirk, and for our Common Good.
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Such Men we were, it is well known,
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As in our Chronicles are shown.
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This made [?] dwell into our Land,
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And our Po[st]erity to stand.
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But when [th]e young Laird became vain,
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And went away to France and Spain,
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Rome raking, wandring here and there:
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O! then became our bootless Care:
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Pride puft him up, because he was
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Far traveld and returnd an Ass.
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Then must the Laird, the Good-mans Oye,
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Be Knighted streight; and make convoy,
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Coachd through the Streets with Horses four,
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Foot-grooms Pasmented oer and oer.
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Himself cut out and slasht so wide,
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Evn his whole shirt his Skin doth hide.
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Gowpherd, Gratnizied Cloaks rare pointed,
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Embroiderd, lacd, with Boots disjointed,
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A Belt embost with Gold and Purle:
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False Hair made craftily to curle:
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Side Breeks be buttond oer the Garters,
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Was neer the like seen in our Quarters.
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Tobacco and Wine Frontinack,
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Potato-Pasties, Spanish Sack,
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Such uncouth Food, such Meat and Drink,
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Could never in our Stomachs sink:
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Then must the Grandson swear and swagger
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And show himself the bravest Bragger,
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A Bon-companion and a Drinker,
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A delicate and dainty Ginker.
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So is seen ont. These foolish Jigs,
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Hath causd his Worship fell his Rigs.
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My Lady, as she is a Woman,
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Is born a Helper to undo Man,
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Her Ladyship must have a share,
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For she is Play-maker and mair;
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For she invents a thousand Toys,
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That House and Hold and all destroys,
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As Scarfs, Shephroas, Tuffs, and Rings,
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Fairdings, Facings, and Powderings
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Rebats, Ribands, Bands, and Ruffs,
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Lapbends, Shagbands, Cuffs and Muffs,
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Folding outlays, Pearling sprigs,
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Atrys, Vardigals, Periwigs:
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Hats, Hoods, Wires and also Kells,
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Washing-balls, and perfuming Smels:
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French-gows cut out and double banded
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Jet Rings to make her pleasant handed:
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A Fan, a Feather, Bracelets, Gloves,
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All new come-busks she dearly loves:
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For such trim bony Baby-clouts,
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Still on the Laird she greets and shouts:
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Which made the Laird take up more Gear,
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Than all the Lands or Rigs could bear.
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These are the Emblems, that declares
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The Merchants thriftless needless wares:
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The Tailors curious Vanitie,
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My Ladys Prodigalitie.
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This is the Truth which I discover:
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I do not care for Feid or Favour;
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For what I was, yet still I am,
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An honest, plain, true dealing Man;
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And if these Words of mine would mend them
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I care not by, though I offend them.
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Here is the Cause most plainly shown,
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That have our Country overthrown.
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Tis said of old, that others Harms,
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Is oftentimes the wise Mans Arms:
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And he is thought most wise of all,
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That learns Good from his Neighbours Fall:
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It grieves my Heart to see this Age,
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I cannot stay to act more Stage:
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I will ingrave me in the Ground,
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And rest there till the Trumpet sound;
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And if I have said ought astray,
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Which may a Messons Mind dismay,
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I do appeal before the Throne
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Of the great Powers three in one:
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The Supream Soveraignity,
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The Parliament of veritie.
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And if you think my Words offends,
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Ye must be there, Is make amends.
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