Auld Mary Laird

By R Deans

Taken from the 1998 Bonnet Guild Festival Guide

A douce honest wumman was auld Mary Laird

As each Sunday cam' roon, she left the Kirkyard

Tae worship her Maker, his pardon tae seek

An' be kept frae a' evil, the oncomin' week.

But this is the story, they tell it an' smirk

Ae' Lords Day auld Mary arrived at the Kirk

In the Bloak Laft she sat, gae sair pit aboot,

There was win' in her stomach, it couldna' get oot.

It pressed on her heart wi' mony a pang

Doon thru' her wame it murmured alang

"There's nae cure for the win' like a Peppermint Drap"

Bell's Janet whispered, an' put yin on her lap.

Things tae a heid were comin' on fast

The Minister cam' tae his Sermon at last

"My subject, Dear Brethem, is, Like as the Heart"

But nae faurer he got, for lood was the fart.

A glaiket young hizzie was forced to laugh oot

Jean, frae the Broom, sat haudin' her snoot

A primsie auld maid wha was sixty or mair

Hid her face wi' her hauns, as if sayin' a prayer.

The wee Beadle muttered, "The dirty auld jaud

Tae come tae the Kirk, an' her win' cannae haud"

While an Elder aye threeped, an' vowed t'was the truth

A smile hovered roon the Minister's mooth.

A big country chiel, wha was fe'ed at Mosside

His Bible let fa' and his mooth open'd wide

Auld Adam frae Kennox looked doon at the flair

And wished he was oot for a breath o' fresh air.

Tho years hae gone by, an' auld Mary Laird

Alang wae the lave, sleeps soun' 'neath the swaird

They speak o' it yet, they tell it an' smirk

On a Lord's Day, Auld Mary arrived at the Kirk.

There's naebody has mind o' the Sermon that day
Or Sermons since then I'm sorry to say

But Auld Mary's mem'ry never can fade

Frae the bonnie wee toon where the Bonnets are made.