Cuddle Doon

By Alexander Anderson

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi” muckle faucht an’ din.
‘O, try and sleep, ye waukrife rouges:
Your father’s comin’ in.”
They never heed a word I speak;
I try to gie a froon;
But aye I hap them up, an’ cry,
“O, bairnies, cuddle doon!”

Wee Jamie wi’ the curly heid –
He aye sleep next the wa” –
Bangs up an’ cries, “I want a piece” –
The rascal starts them ‘a.
I rin and fetch them pieces, drinks –
They stop a wee the soun’ –
Then draw the blankets up, and cry,
“Noo, weanies, cuddle doon!”

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot, frae ‘neath the claes,
“Mither, mak’ Tam gie over at once;
He’s kittlin’ wi’ his taes.”
The mischief’s in that Tam for tricks;
He’d bother half the toon;
But aye I hap them up, and cry,
“Q, bairnies, cuddle doon!”

At length they hear their father’s lit;
An’, as he steeks the door,
They turn their faces to the wa’
While Tam pretends to snore,
“Hae a’ the weans been gude?” he asks,
And he pits off tis shoon.
“The bairnies, John, are in their beds,
An’ lang since cuddled doon.”

An’ just before we bed oorsels,
We look at our wee lambs;
Tam has his airm roun’ wee Rab’s neck,
An’ Rab his airm roun’ Tam’s.
I lift wee Jamie up the bed,
An, as I straik each croon,
I whisper till my heart fills up,
“O, bairnies, cuddle doon!”

The bairies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi’ mirth that’s dear to me;
But soon the big warl’s cark an’ care
Will quaten doon their glee;
Yet, come what will to ilka ane,
May he who sits aboon
Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld
“O, bairnies, cuddle doon!”


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