James Thomson

(11 September 1700 – 27 August 1748 / Ednam in Roxburghshire, Scotland)

An Elegy Upon James Therburn, In Chatto - Poem by James Thomson

Play Poem Video

Now, Chatto, you're a dreary place,
Pale sorrow broods on ilka face;
Therburn has run his race.
And now, and now, ah me, alas!
The carl lies dead.

Having his paternoster said,
He took a dram and went to bed;
He fell asleep, and death was glad
That he had catched him;
For Therburn was e'en ill bested,
That none did watch him.

For had the carl but been aware,
That meagre death, who none does spare,
T'attempt sic things should ever dare,
As stop his pipe;
He might have come to flee or scare;
The greedy gripe.

How he'd had but a gill or twae,
Death would nae got the victory sae,
Nor put poor Therburn o'er the brae,
Into the grave;

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [1]

The fumbling fellow, some folks say,
Should be jobbed on baith night and day;
She had without'en better play,
Remained still,
Barren for ever and for aye,
Do what he will.

Therefore they say he got some help
In getting of the little whelp;
But passing that, it makes me yelp,
But what remead?
Death lent him sic a cursed skelp,
That now he's dead.

Therburn, for evermore farewell,
And be thy grave both dry and deep;
And rest thy carcase soft and well,
Free from . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . no night . . . . . .
Disturb . . . . . . . . . . . .


Comments about An Elegy Upon James Therburn, In Chatto by James Thomson

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 20, 2010



[Hata Bildir]