Canny Cummerlan Poem by Robert Anderson

'Twas ae neet last week, wid our wark efter supper,
We went owre the geate cousin Isbel to see;
Theer were Sibby frae Curthet, and lal Betty Byers,
Deef Debby, forby Bella Bunton and me;
We'd scarce begun spinnin, when Sib a sang lilted,
She'd brong her frae Carel by their sarvant man;
'Twas aw about Cummerlan fwok and feyne pleaces,
And, if I can think on't, ye's hear how it ran.

Yer buik--larn'd wise gentry, that's seen monie counties,
May preach and palaver, and brag as they will
O' mountains, lakes, valleys, woods, watters, and meadows,
But canny auld Cummerlan caps them aw still:
It's true, we've nae palaces sheynin amang us,
Nor marble tall towers to catch the weak eye;
But we've monie feyne cassels, where fit our brave fadders,
When Cummerlan cud onie county defy.

Furst Graystock we'll nwotish, the seat o' girt Norfolk,
A neame still to freemen and Englishmen dear;
Ye Cummerlan fwok, may your sons and your gransons
Sec rare honest statesmen for iver revere:
Corruption's a sink that'll puzzen the country,
And lead us to slav'ry, to me it seems plain;
But he that hes courage to stem the black torrent,
True Britons sud pray for, agean and agean.

Whea that hes climb'd Skiddaw, hes seen sec a prospec,
Where fells frown owre fells, and in majesty vie?
Whea that hes seen Keswick, can count hawf its beauties,
May e'en try to count hawf the stars i' the sky:
Theer's Ullswater, Bassenthwaite, Wastwater, Derwent,
That thousands on thousands ha'e travell'd to view;
The langer they gaze, still the mair they may wonder,
And ay, as they wonder, may fin summet new.

We've Corby for rocks, caves, and walks sae delightfu',
That Eden a paradeyse loudly proclaims;
O that sec leyke pleaces hed ay sec leyke awners,
Then mud monie girt fwok be proud o' their neames!
We've Netherby tui, the grand pride o' the border,
And haws out o' number, nae county can bang;
Wi' rivers romantic as Tay, Tweed, or Yarrow,
And green woodbine bowers weel wordy a sang.

We help yen anudder; we welcome the stranger;
Oursels and our country we'll iver defend;
We pay bits o' taxes as weel as we're yable,
And pray, leyke true Britons, the war hed an end:
Then, Cummerlan lads, and ye lish rwosy lasses,
If some caw ye clownish, ye need'nt think sheame;
Be merry and wise, enjoy innocent pleasures,
And ay seek for health and contentment at heame.