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Updated: June 3, 2025
In one of Burns's own poems, The Cotter's Saturday Night, we get some idea of the simple home life these kindly God- fearing peasants led "November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;* The short'ning winter-day is near a close; The miry bests retreating frae the pleugh; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose; The toil-worn Cotter Frae his labour goes,
Belyve,* the elder bairns come drapping in, At service out, amang the farmers roun'; Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin A cannie * errand to a neebor town: Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw new gown, Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
"He is a bra' farmer, I know," quoth the steward, "so far as the theory goes; but I don't think we in the North want great lords to teach us how to follow the pleugh." The steward's sense of dignity is hurt; but he is an honest fellow, and really glad to see the family come to settle in the old place. They have arrived, and with them the Castletons and a whole posse comitatus of guests.
Cuddie, resting upon the but of his gun, and looking up at this window, observed to one of his companions, "There's a place I ken weel; mony a time I hae helped Jenny Dennison out o' the winnock, forby creeping in whiles mysell to get some daffin, at e'en after the pleugh was loosed." "And what's to hinder us to creep in just now?" said the other, who was a smart enterprising young fellow.
Here, lad, thou can read print easy; it's a bit as was cut out on a papper; there's Newcassel, and York, and Durham, and a vast more towns named, wheere folk can learn a' about t' new mak' o' pleugh. 'I see, said Philip: "Robinson, Side, Newcastle, can give all requisite information." 'Ay, ay, said Robson; 'thou's hit t' marrow on t' matter.
Here, lad, thou can read print easy; it's a bit as was cut out on a papper; there's Newcassel, and York, and Durham, and a vast more towns named, wheere folk can learn a' about t' new mak' o' pleugh. 'I see, said Philip: "Robinson, Side, Newcastle, can give all requisite information." 'Ay, ay, said Robson; 'thou's hit t' marrow on t' matter.
His poetic creed may be summed up in one of his own stanzas: Give me ae spark o' Nature's fire, That's a' the learning I desire; Then, though I trudge thro' dub an' mire At pleugh or cart, My Muse, though hamely in attire, May touch the heart.
But if ye put me to charges, I'se work it out o'ye. I seena why ye shouldna haud the pleugh, now that the pleughman has left us; it wad set ye better than wearing thae green duds, and wasting your siller on powther and lead; it wad put ye in an honest calling, and wad keep ye in bread without being behadden to ony ane."
And that's what vexes me mair than a' the rest, when I think how I am to fend for ye now in thae brickle times. I am no clear if I can pleugh ony place but the Mains and Mucklewhame, at least I never tried ony other grund, and it wadna come natural to me. And nae neighbouring heritors will daur to take us, after being turned aff thae bounds for non-enormity."
"'The Lord was as an enemy; He hath swallowed up Israel. And I'm thinkin', 'gin He send nae help, and that sune, we're no muckle better than deid men. Eh! weary fa' the day I left my ain pleugh stilts, an' my ain fireside." "Na, na, freend. He that setteth his hand to the plough, let him not look back," answered the Borderer.
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