Alba gu bráth - Scotland Until Judgment
A Poet’s Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter
Thou’s welcome, Wean! Mishanter fa’ me,
If thoughts o’ thee, or yet thy Mamie,
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 kintra 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!
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. —
Sweet fruit o’ monie a merry dint,
My funny toil is no a’ tint;
Tho’ thou cam to the warld asklent,
Which fools may scoff at,
In my last plack thy part’s be in’t,
The better half 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.
Gude grant that thou may ay inherit
Thy Mither’s looks an’ gracefu’ merit;
An’ thy poor, worthless Daddie’s spirit,
Without his failins!
’Twill please me mair to see thee heir it
Than stocket mailins!
For if thou be, what I wad hae thee,
An’ 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.
Robert Burns
