Auld Scotlan' gangs yirmin an' chanerin' alane; <br />She wunners whaur a' her trig lassocks ha'e gane; <br />She's trampit the kintra, an' socht thro' the toons, <br />An' fan' the fule hizzies-blawn oot like balloons! <br /> <br /> <br />Can they be my lassocks-ance cozie an' cosh, <br />Weel shapit, weel happit-sae stumpy an' tosh? <br />Twa coats an' a toush, or a goon, ye may ween, <br />Were boukie aneuch, wi' what nature had gi'en. <br /> <br /> <br />They're aye i' my e'e, an' they're aye i' my gate- <br />At the kirk I am chirtit maist oot o' my seat; <br />Whan caul', tae the ingle I needna gae ben, <br />If Kate an' her crinoline's on the fire-en'. <br /> <br /> <br />Whan a lad wi' a lassie forgethers yenoo, <br />It's no her bricht een, or her rosie wee mou', <br />Her snod cockernony, waist jimpy an' fine, <br />That first tak's his e'e-it's the big crinoline! <br /> <br /> <br />Tae sae that he likes it would jist be a lee- <br />But ye ken that the big thing attracts aye the wee- <br />An' the lass that cares nocht 'bout her heart an' her heid, <br />Tak's care that her crinoline's weel spread abreed. <br /> <br /> <br />An' say, if dame Nature wad gi'e at her birth, <br />Tae ilka wee lassie that's born on the yirth, <br />A bouk o' her ain, that grew bigger ilk year, <br />Ye'd no be sae prood o' the giftie I fear. <br /> <br /> <br />When a widow was burnt i' the Indian suttees, <br />Tae honour the dead, and the fause gods tae please, <br />The puir heathen body I'm pincht tae accuse, <br />Whan I read o' they crinoline deaths i' the news. <br /> <br /> <br />Sae aff wi' the whalebone, the cane, an' the steel! <br />I likna the crinoline, trouth an' atweel; <br />It's fule-like an' fashous, it's cheatrie an' boss- <br />I wad jist ha'e yere cleedin' bien, genty, an' doss.<br /><br />Janet Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crinoline/
