Broom Besoms
Broom Besoms - meaning Summary
Marriage in Comic Pragmatism
The poem presents a comic, matter-of-fact speaker who insists he must have a wife and will accept any woman. Repeated refrains about selling broom besoms frame short, jokey stanzas that list contrasting traits—beauty or ugliness, youth or age, fertility or barrenness, modest drinking or liking a dram—and treat each as ultimately unimportant. The speaker’s pragmatic, bawdy tone mixes acceptance with sly self-interest, while later stanzas register the wear of age and playful regret. The poem reads as lighthearted folk satire on marriage and male desire, voiced in Scots dialect.
Read Complete AnalysesI maun hae a wife, whatsoe'er she be; An she be a woman, that's enough for me. Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew. If that she be bony, I shall think her right: If that she be ugly, where's the odds at night? Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew. O, an she be young, how happy shall I be! If that she be auld, the sooner she will die. Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew. If that she be fruitfu', O! what joy is there! If she should be barren, less will be my care. Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew. If she like a drappie, she and I'll agree; If she dinna like it, there's the mair for me. Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew. Be she green or gray; be she black or fair; Let her be a woman, I shall seek nae mair. Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew. II Young and souple was I, when I lap the dyke; Now I'm auld and frail, I douna step a syke. Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew. Young and souple was I, when at Lautherslack, Now I'm auld and frail, and lie at Nansie's back. Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew. Had she gien me butter, when she gae me bread, I wad looked baulder, wi' my beld head. Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them now; Fine heather ringers, better never grew.
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