TWA travellers, as they were wa'king,
'Bout the chamaelion fell a ta'king.
(Sic think it shaws them mettl'd men
To say "I've seen and ought to ken".)
Says ane: "'Tis a strange beast indeed,
Four-footed, with a fish's head,
A little bowk, with a lang tail,
And moves far slawer than a snail,
Of colour like a blawart blue."
Reply'd his nibour: "That's no true,
For well I wat his colour's green,
If ane may trow his ain twa een.
For I in sun-shine saw him fair,
When he was dining on the air."
"Excuse me," says the ither blade,
"I saw him better in the shade,
And he is blue." — "He's green, I'm sure." —
"Ye lied." — "And ye're the son of a whore." —
Frae words there had been cuff and kick,
Had not a third come in the nick,
Wha, tenting them in this rough mood,
Cry'd, "Gentlemen, what! are ye wood?
What's ye'r quarrel, and't may be speer't?"
"Truth," says the tane, "sir, ye shall hear't.
The chamaelion, I say, he's blue.
He threaps he's green. Now, what say you?"
"Ne'er fash ye'r sells about the matter,"
Says the sagacious arbitrator,
"He's black, sae nane of you are right.
I view'd him well with candle-light
And have it in my pocket here,
Row'd in my napkin hale and feer."
"Fy!" said ae cangler, "what d'ye mean?
I'll lay my lugs on't that he's green."
Said th'ither: "Were I gawn to death,
I'd swear he's blue with my last breath."
"He's black," the judge maintain'd ay stout
And to convince them whop'd him out.
But to surprise of ane and a'
The animal was white as snaw
And thus reprov'd them: "Shallow boys,
Away, away, make nae mair noise.
Ye're a' three wrang and a' three right.
But learn to own your nibour's sight
As good as yours. Your judgment speak,
But never be sae daftly weak
T'imagine ithers will by force
Submit their sentiments to yours.
As things in various lights ye see,
They'll ilka ane resemble me."
Twa traivelers, as thay war waukin,
'Boot the chamaelion fell a taukin.
(Sic think it shaws thaim mettled men
Ti say "Ah've seen, an ocht ti ken".)
Says ane: "'Tis a streenge beast indeed,
Fower-footed, wi a fish's heid,
A little bowk, wi a lang tail,
An meuves ferr slawer than a snail,
O colour like a blawairt blue."
Replied his neibour: "That's no true,
For weel Ah wat his colour's green,
Yif ane may trowe his ain twa een.
For Ah in sunsheen saw him fair,
Whan he wes dinin on the air."
"Excaise me," says the ither blade,
Ah saw him better in the shade,
An he is blue." "He's green, Ah'm shuir."
"Ye leed." "An ye're the son o a hure."
Frae wirds thare haed been cuff an kick,
Haedna a third come in the nick,
Wha, tentin thaim in this roch muid,
Cried, "Gentlemen, what! err ye wuid?
What's yer quarrel, an't may be speert?"
"Trowth," says the tane, "sir, ye sall hear't.
The chamaelion, Ah say, he's blue.
He threaps he's green. Noo, what say you?"
"Neer fash yersels aboot the maiter,"
Says the sagacious arbitrator,
"He's black, sae nane o ye err richt.
Ah viewed him weel wi canil licht
An have it in ma pocket here,
Rowed in ma naipkin hail an fere."
"Feich!" sayd ae cangler, "what d'ye mean?
Ah'll lay ma lugs on't that he's green."
Sayd th'ither: "War Ah gawn tae daith,
Ah'd sweir he's blue wi ma last braith."
"He's black," the juidge menteened aye stoot
An ti convince thaim whipped him oot.
But tae surpreese of ane an aw
The ainimal wes white as snaw
An thus repruived them:
"Shallae boys,
Awa, awa, mek nae mair noise.
Ye're aw three wrang an aw three richt.
But lairn ti awn yer neibour's sicht
As guid as yours. Yer juidgement speik,
But niver be sae daftly waik
T'imagine ithers wull bi force
Submit thair sentiments tae yours.
As things in various lichts ye see,
Thay'll ilka ane resemble me."