Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GRANDFAITHER'S KNEE, by JAMES M. NEILSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

GRANDFAITHER'S KNEE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: By the ingle auld grandfaither's sittin'
Last Line: Their sairs hale on grandfaither's knee.
Subject(s): Grandparents; Grandmothers; Grandfathers; Great Grandfathers; Great Grandmothers


BY the ingle auld grandfaither's sittin',
His nichtcap drawn owre his bauld pow;
'Mang his scant locks Time's frost's gat a fittin'
That Death's breath alane noo can thow.
Like a licht 'mang the mist o' the mornin',
Subdued is the flash o' his e'e;
But his heart dings owre Age an' ilk warnin'
To get at the bairns roun' his knee.

When the bairns leave their play 'mang the heather,
Leave paidlin' the mossy broon burn,
Wi' the bloom on their cheek they there gether,
To grandfaither's knee they return;
An' like clusters o' ripe fruit they swing on't --
Richt glad is the auld vintner's soul,
An' he fin's nae the burden they bring on't,
For love mak's him stronger to thole.

While their faithers may rival sae keenly
For honours in Kirk or in State,
There's rivalry scarcely mair freen'ly
'Mang bairns for their favourite seat;
For grandfaither's haun's a croon kin'ly,
Like royalty's robe's his embrace:
Wi' his knee for a throne, 'maist divinely
True happiness brichtens ilk face.

On the ae day, wi' grandfaither's bawbee,
They're listed into the Dragoons,
An' they've mounted his knee an' awa', see,
To ride through the enemy's touns.
On the next day they join the blue jackets --
The Black Prince gaes reddin' the sea,
But they're safe aye frae rifles an' rackets --
A snug place is grandfaither's knee.

There they're schul't in the gaits they sud gang in,
Whar thorns will be fewer to fash;
An' for fear they dae oucht there is wrang in,
They're ne'er to dae onything rash.
It's their altar -- the Holy Beuk's spread on't,
He reads about ilk Bible bairn;
An' their wee heids sae flaxen are laid on't,
Their earliest prayer to learn.

But, ochone, for the dool they've been hearin',
Their wee hearts blude sair wi' the stang --
He has told them the nicht-fa' is nearin',
His day wi' them canna be lang.
Owre ilk rosy cheek Sorrow's dew's dreepin',
Gude's haun in't they canna yet see;
An' they segh loud an' lang till they're sleepin'
Their sairs hale on grandfaither's knee.





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