To a Lonely Auld Man (original poem: John Murray - adapted Paul O’Brien)

 

My dear auld friend, Willie, it grieves me to think,

Though you don’t use tobacco, cigars, or strong drink,

You are losing the only real joy o’ your life,

By not having chosen a cheery wee wife.

You’ve arrived at the right age, it’s still not too late

To choose for yourself a true loving helpmate:

Your knowledge an’ wisdom, experience an’ fame

Should make any lass willingly alter her name.

 

A lonely auld man, Willie, perish the thought,

Now a bachelor’s life it shall not be your lot;

Some honest Scotch lassie will stretch forth her hand,

And prevent you from being a lonely auld man.

 

Good auld skipper Noah was far more than twice

Your age e’er he thought it was time tae get spliced;

And a hundred and twenty long years, so they say,

He could look back with pleasure on his wedding day.

And many year after he sang like a lark,

While driving big ten penny nails in the ark,

And good Mrs. Noah, as blithe as a queen,

She swept up the shavings an’ kept the place clean.

 

This shows the advantage of having a wife

Tae guide an’ tae cheer you through this weary life;

She’ll  keep your house tidy an’ aye darn your socks,

And if your act squarely your “ears she won’t box.”

 

Now don’t look for a lassie dressed up like a queen,

For a wife might be pleasant to more than the e’een,

And be sure of her heart e’er you offer your hand,

Here’s friendly advice for you, Willie, my man.

And when it’s a’ settled be pleased to remember,

Send a postcard to Murray, and one to R. Pender,

And as brother rhymers we’ll both raise our voice,

Believe me , my friend, in your joy we’ll rejoice.

 

Now I hope and I trust you will not me misjudge,

Or say my advice it is a’ silly fudge,

I’ve a warm regard for ye, my honest old pal,

And whatever may happen, we do wish ye well.