Rough Scan
SCOTS POEMS

PART II





AN ECLOGUE.


='TWAS e'ening whan the spreckled gowdspink sang,
Whan new-fa'en dew in blobs o' chrystal hang;
Than _Will and Sandie_ thought they'd wrought eneugh,
And loos'd their sair toil'd owsen from the pleugh:
Before they ca'd their breasts unto the town,
The lads to draw their breath e'en sat them down:
To the stiff sturdy aik they lean their backs,
While honest Sandy thus begins the cracks.

SANDIE.

=Aince I could hear the laverock's shrill-tun'd throat,
And listen tot he clattering gowdspink's note;
Aince I could whistle cantily as they,
To owsen, as they till'd my ruggit clay;
But now I wou'd as leive maist lend my lugs
To tuneless puddocks croaking i' the bogs;
I sigh at hame, a-field am dowie too,
To sowf a tune I'll never crook my mou.

WILLIE.

=Foul fa me gif your bridai had na been
Nae langer bygane than sin Hallow-e'en,
I cou'd hae tell'd you but a warlock's art,
That some daft lightlyin' quean had stown'n your heart;
Our beasties here will take their e'ening pluck,
An' now sin Jock's gane hame the byres to muck,
Fain would I houp my friend will be inclin'd
To gie me a' the secrets o' his mind:
Heh!  Sandie, lad, what dool's come owr ye now,
That you to whistle ne#er will crook your mou?

SANDIE.

=Ah!  Willie, Willie, I may date my wae
Frae what beted me on my bridal day;
Sair may I rue the hour in which our hands
Were knit thegither in the haly bands;
Sin that I thrave sae ill, in troth I fancy,
Some fiend or fairy, nae sae very chancy,
Has driven me, by pauky wiles uncommon,
To wed this fliting fury of a woman.

WILLIE.

=Ah!  Sandie, aften hae I heard you tell,
Amang the lasses a' she bure the bell;
And say the modest glances o' her ein
Far dang the brightest beauties o' the green,
You ca'd her ay sae innoccent, sae youn,
I thought she kent na how to use her tongue.

SANDIE.

=Before I married her, I'll tak my aith,
Her tongue was never louder than her breath;
But now it's turn'd sae souple and sae bauld,
That Job himself could scarcely thole the scauld.

WILLIE.

=Lat her yelp on, be you as calm's a mouse,
Nor lat your whist be heard into the hound;
Do what she can, or be as loud's she please,
Ne'er mind her flytes, but set your heart at ease,
Sit down and blaw your pope, nor faush your thumb,
An' there's my hand she'll tire, and soon sign dumb;
Sooner shou'd Winter's cald confine the sea,
An' lat the sma'est o' our burns rin free;
Sooner at Yule-day shall the birk be drest,
Or birds in sapless busses big their nest,
Before a tonguey woman's noisy plea
Shoul'd ever be a cause to danton me.

SANDIE.

=Weel cou'd I this abide, but oh!  I fear
I'll soom be twin'd o' a' my warldy gear;
My kirnstaff now stands grizzen'd at the door,
My cheese-rack toom that ne'er was toom before;
My ky may now rin rowtin to the hill,
And on the naked yird their milkness pill;
She seenil lays her hand upon a turn,
Neglexts the kebbuck, and forgets the kirn;
I vow my hair-mould milk would poison dogs,
As it stands lapper'd int he dirty cogs.

=Before the seed I sell'd my ferra cow,
An' wi the profit cost a stane o' woo':
I though, by priggin, that she might hae spun
A plaidie, light, to screen me frae the sub;
But tho' the siller's scant, the cleedin dear,
She has na ca'd about a wheel the year.
Last ouk but ane I was frae hame a day,
Buying a threave or twa o' bedding strae:
O' ilka thing the woman had her will,
Had fouth o' meal to bake, and hens to kill:
But hyn awa' to E'inbrough scoured she
To get a making o' her fav'rite tea;
And cause I let her na the weary _clink_,
She pawn'd the very trunchers frae my bink.

WILLIE.

=Her tea! ah! wae betide sic costly gear,
Or them that ever wad the price o't spear.
Sin my auld gutcher first the warld knew,
Fouk had na fund the Indies whare it grew.
I mind mysell, it's nae sae lang sin syne,
Whan Auntie Marion did her stamack tyne,
That _Davs_ our gard'ner came frae _Apple-bog_,
An' gae her tea to tak by way o' drog.

SANDIE.

=Whan ilka herd for cauld his fingers rubs,
An' cakes o' ice are seen upo' the dubs;
At morning, whan frae pleugh or fauld I come,
I'll see a bra' reek rising frae my lum,
An ablin's think to get a rantin blaze,
To fley the frost awa', and toast my taes;
But hwan I shoot my nose in, ten to ane
If I weelfardly see my ane hearthstane;
She round the ingle wi' her gimmers sits,
Crammin their gabbies wi' her nicest bits,
While the gudeman out-by maun fill his crap
Frae the milk coggie, or the parritch cap.

WILLIE.

=Sandy, gif this were ony common plea,
I shou'd the lealest o' my counsel gie;
but mak or meddle betwixt man an' wife,
Is what I never did in a' my life.
It's wearin on now to the tail o' May,
An' just between the beer-seed and the hay;
As lang's an orrow morning may he spar'd,
Stap your wa's east the haugh, an' tell the laird;
For he's aman weel vers'd in a' the laws,
Kens baith their outs and ins, their cracks an' flaws,
An' ay right gleg, whan things are out o' joint,
At sattlin o' a nice or kittle point.
But yonder's Jock, he'll ca' your owsen hame,
And tak thir tidings to your thrawart dame,
That ye're away ae peacefu' meal to prie,
An' tak your supper kail or sow'ns wi' me.





AN ECLOGUE,

TO THE MEMORY OF DR. WILLIAM WILKIE, LATE PROFESSOR OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREW'S.

GEORDIE AND DAVIE.

GEORDIE.

=BLAW saft, my reed, and kindly to my maen,
Weel may ye thole a saft an dowie strain;
Nae mair to you shall shephers in a ring;
Wi' blythness skip, or lasses lilt an' sing;
Sic sorrow now maun sadden ilka eie,
An' ilka waefu' shepherd grieve wi' me.

DAVIE.

=Wharefor begin a sad an' dowie strain,
Or banish lilting frae the Fifan plain?
Tho' simmer's gane, an' we nae langer view
The blades o' claver wat wi' pearls o' dew.
Cauld Winter's bleakest blasts we'll eithly cowr,
Our eldin's driven, an' our har'st is owr;
Our _rucks_ fu' thick are stackit i' the yard,
For the _yule-feast_ a sautit mart's prepar'd;
The ingle-nook suplies the simmer fields,
An' aft as mony gleefu' maments yeilds.
Swyth man! fling a' your sleepy springs awa',
An' on your canty whistle gies a blaw:
Blythness, I trow, maun lighten ilks eie,
An' ilka canty callant sing like me.

GEORDIE.

=Na, na! a canty spring wad now impart
Just threefald sorrow to my heavy heart
Thof to the _weet_ my ripen'd aits had sawn,
Or shake-winds owr my rigs wi' pith had blawn,
To this I cou'd hae said, "I carena by,"
Nor fund occasion now my cheeks to dry
Crosses like thae, or lake o' warld's o' gear,
Are naething whan we tyne a friend that's dear
Ah! waes me for you, _Willie!_ mony a day
Did I wi' you on yon broom-thackit brae
Hound aff my sheep, an' let them careless gang
To harken to your cheary tale or sang;
Sangs that for ay, on Caledonia's strand,
Shall sit the foremost 'mang her tunefu' band

=I dreamt yestreen his deadly _wraith_ I saw
Gang by my ein as white's the driven snaw;
My _colley_, Ringie, youf'd an' yowl'd a' night,
Cour'd an' crap near me in an unco fright,
I waken'd fley'd, an' shook baith lith an' limb;
A cauldness took me, an' my sight grew dim;
I kent that it forspak approachin' wae
When my poor doggie was disturbit sae.
Nae sooner did the day begin to dawn,
Than I beyont the know fu' speedy ran,
Whare I was keppit wi' the heavy tale
That sets ilk dowie sangster to bewail.

DAVIE.

=An' wha on Fifan bents can weel refuse
To gie the tear o' tribute to his Muse?"
Fareweel ilk cheery spring, ilk canty note,
Be daffin an' ilk idle play forgot;
Bring, ilka herd, the mournfu', mournfu' boughs,
_Rosemary_ sad, and ever dreary yews;
Thae lat be steepit i' the saut, saut tear,
Te weet wi' hallow'd draps his sacred bier,
Whase sangs will ay in Scotland be rever'd,
While _slow-gawn owsen_ turn the flow'ry swaird;
While bonny _lambies_ lick the dews of spring,
While _gaudsmen_ whistle, or while _birdies_ sing.

GEORDIE.

='Twas na for weel tim'd verse or sangs alane
He bore the bell frae ilka shepherd swain.
_Nature_ to him had gi'en a kindly lore,
Deep a' her mystic _ferlies_ to explore:
For a' her secret workings he could gie
Reasons that wi' her principles agree.
Ye saw yoursel how weel his _mailin'_ thrave,
Ay better faugh'd an' snodit than the lave;
Lang had the _thristles_ an' the _dockans_ been
In use to wag their taps upo' the green,
Whare now his bonny rigs delight the view,
An thriving hedges drink the caller dew.

DAVIE.

=They tell me, Geordie, he had sic a gift,
That scarce a starnie blinkit frae the lift,
But he wou'd some auld warld name for't find,
As gart him keep it freshly in his mind:
For this some ca'd him an uncanny wight;
The clash gaed round, "he had the second sight;"
A tale that never fail'd to be the pride
O' grannies spinnin' at the ingle-side.

GEORDIE.

=But now he's gane, an' Fame that, whan alive,
Seenil lats on y o' her vot'ries thrive,
Will frae his shinin name a' motes withdraw,
And on her loudest trump his praises blaw.
Land may his sacred banes untroubled rest!
Land may his truff in gowans gay be drest!
Scholars and bard _unheard of yet_ shall come,
And stamp memorials on his grassy tomb,
Which in yon antient kirk-yard shall remain,
Fam'd as the urn that hads the MANUAN _swain_.





ELEGY,

ON THE DEATH OF MR. DAVID GREGORY, LATE PROFESSOR OF MATHEMATICS IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREW'S.

NOW mourn, ye college masters a!
An' frae your ein a tear let fa',
Fam'd GREGORY death has ta'en awa'
==Wihtout remeid;
The skaith ye've met wi's nae that sma',
==Sin Gregory's dead.

The student too will miss him sair,
To school them weel his eident care,
Now they may mourn for ever mair,
==They hae great need;
They'll hip the maist fek o' their lear,
==Sin Gregory's dead.

He could, by _Euclid_, prove lang sine
A ganging _point_ compos'd a line;
By numbers too he cou'd divine,
==When he did read,
That _three_ times _three_ just made up nine;
==But now he's dead.

In _Algebra_ weel skill'd he was,
An' kent fu' weel _proportion's_ laws;
He cou'd mak clear baith B'a and A's
==Wi' his lang head;
Rin owr surd roots but cracks or flaws;
==But now he's dead.

Weel ver'd was he in architecture,
AN' kent the nature of the _sector_,
Upo' baith bloges he weel cou'd lecture,
==An' gar's tak heed:
O' geometry he was the _Hector;_
==But now he's dead.

Sae weel's he'd fley the students a',
Whan they were skeplin' at the ba',
They took leg-bail, an' ran awa'
==Wi' pith an' speed;
We winna get a sport sae bra',
==Sin Gregory's dead.

Great 'casion hae we a' to weep,
An' cleed our skins in mournin' deep,
For Gregory _death_ will fairly keep
==To tak his nap;
He'll tillt he resurrection sleep
==As sound's a tap.





THE DAFT DAYS.

Now mirk December's dowie face
Glowrs owr the rigs wi' sour grimace,
While, thro' his _minimum_ o' space,
==The bleer-ey'd sun,
Wi' blinkin light and stealing pace,
==His race doth run.

Frae naked groves nae birdie sings,
To shepherd's pipe nae hillock rings,
The breeze nae od'rous flavour brings
==Frae _Borean_ cave,
And dwynin Nature droops her wings,
==Wi' visage grave.

Mankind but scanty pleasure glean
Frae snawy hill or barren plain,
Whan Winter, 'midst his nipping train,
==Wi' frozen spear,
Sends drift owr a' his bleak domain,
==And guides the weir.

_Auld Reikie!_ thou'rt the canty hole,
A bield for mony a cauldrife soul,
Wha saugly at thine ingle loll,
==Baith warm and couth;
While round they gar the bicker roll,
==To weet their mouth.

Whan merry _Yule-day_ comes, I trow,
You'll scantlins fin' a hungry mou;
Sma' are our cares, our stamacks fou
==O' gusty gear,
An kickshaws, strangers to our view
==Sin Fairn-year.

Ye browsters wives, now busk ye bra',
An lfing your sorrows far awa';
Then come an' gie's the tither blaw
==O' reaming ale,
Mair precious than the weel o' _Spa_,
==Our hearts to heal.

Than tho' at odds wi' a' the warl,
Amang oursels we'll never quarrel;
Tho' Discord gie a canker'd snarl
==To spoil our glee,
As lang's there pith into the barrel
==We'll drink an 'gree.

_Fidlers_, your pins in temper fix,
And roset weel your fiddle-sticks,
But banish vile Italian tricks
==Frae out your quorum,
Nor _fortes_ wi' _pianos_ mix,
==Gie's _Tulloch-Gorum_.

For nought can cheer the heart sae weil
As can a canty Highland reel,
It even vivifies the heel
==To skip and dance:
Lifeless is he wha canna feel
==Its influence.

Let mirth abound, let social cheer
Invest the dawning of the year;
Let blithesome innocence sppear
==To crown our joy,
Nor Envy, wi' sarcastic sneer,
==Our bliss destroy.

And thou, great god of _Aqua Vitae!_
Wha sways the empire o' this city,
When fou we're sometimes capernoity,
==Be thou prepair'd
To hedge us frae the black banditti,
==The City-Guard.





THE KING'S BIRTH DAY IN EDINBURGH.

=_Oh! qualis hurly-burly fuit, si forte vidisses._
====POLEMO-MIDDINIA.

I SING the day sae aften sung,
Wi' which our lugs hae yearly rung,
In whase loud praise the Muse has dung
==A' kind o' print;
But now! the limmer's fairly flung;
==There's naething in't.

I'm fain to think the joys the same
In London town as here at hame,
Whare fouk o' ilka age and name,
==Baith blind an cripple,
Forgather aft, O fy for shame!
==To drink an' tipple.

O _Muse_, be kind, an' dinna fash us
To flee awa' beyont Parnassus,
Nor seek for _Helicon_ to wash us,
==That heath'nish spring;
Wi' Highland whisky scour our hauses,
==An' gar us sing.

Begin then, dame, ye've drunk you're fill,
You woudna hae the tither gill?
You'll trust me, mair would do you ill,
==An' ding you doitet;
Troth 'twould be sair against my will
==To hae the wyte o't.

Sing then, how, on the _fourth_ of June,
Our _bells_ screed aff a loyal tune,
Our ancient castle shoots at noon,
==Wi' flag-staff buskit,
Frae which the soges blades come down
==To cock their musket.

Oh willawins!  MONS MEG, for you,
'Twas firing crack'd thy mukle mou;
What black mishanter gart you spew
==Baith gut and ga'?
I fear thay bang'd thy belly fu'
==Against the law.

Right seenil am I gi'en to bannin,
But, by my saul, ye was a cannon,
Cou'd hit a man had he been stannin
==In shire o' Fife,
Sax lang Scots miles ayont _Clackmannan_,
==An' tak his life.

The hills in terror wou'd cry out,
An' echo to thy dinsome rout;
The herds wou'd gather in their nowt,
==That glow'rd wi' wonder
Haflins afley'd to bide thereout
==To hear thy thunder.

Sing likewise, Muse, how _blue-gown_ bodies,
Like scar-craws new ta'en down frae woodies,
Come here to cast their clouted dudies,
==An' get their pay:
Than them what magistrate mair proud is
==On king's birth-day?

On this great day the city-guard,
In military art weel lear'd,
Wi' powder'd pow an' shaven beard,
==Gang thro' their functions,
By hostile rabble seldom spar'd
==O' clarty unctions.

O _soldiers!_ for you ain dear sakes,
For Scotland's, alias _Land of Cakes_,
Gie not her _barins_ sic deadly pakes,
==Nor be sae rude,
Wi' firelock or Lochaber aix,
==As spill their blude.

Now round an' round the _serpents_ whiz,
Wi' hissing wrath and angry phiz;
Sometimes they catch a gentle _gizz_,
==Alack-a-day!
An' singe wi' _hair-devouring bizz_,
==Its curls away.

Shou'd th' owner patiently keek round,
To view the nature of his wouud,
_Dead pussie_, draggled thro' the pond,
==Taks him a lounder,
Whilk lays his _honour_ on the ground
==As flat's a _flounder_.

The Muse maun also now implore
Auld wives to steek ilk hole an' bore;
If _baudrins_ slip but to the door,
==I fear, I fear,
She'll nae lang shank upo' all four
==This time o' year.

Neist day ilk hero tells his news,
O' crackit crowns and broken brows,
An' deeds that here forbid the Muse
==Her theme to swell,
Or time mair precious abuse
==Their crimes to tell.

She'll rather to the fields resort,
Whare music gars the day seem short,
Whare doggier play, and lambies sport,
==On gowany braed,
Whare peerless Fancy hads her court,
==And tunes her lays.





CALLER OYSTERS.

=_Happy the man who, free from care and strife,_
=_In silken or in leathern purse retains_
=_A splendid shilling.  He nor hears with pain_
=_New_ oysters _cry'd, nor sighs for chearful ale._
====PHILLIPS.

O' A' the waters that can hobble
A fishing yole or sa'mon coble,
An' can reward the fisher's trouble,
==Or south or north,
There's nane sae spacious an' sae noble
==As Frith o' _Forth_.

In her the skate an' codlin sail,
The eel fu' souple wags her tail,
Wi' herrin, fleuk, and mackarel,
==An' whitens dainty:
Their spindle-shanks the labsters trail,
==Wi' partans plenty.

AULD REIKIE'S sons blythe faces wear;
September's merry month is near,
That brings in Neptune's caller cheer,
==New oysters fresh:
The halesomest and nicest gear
==O' fish or flesh.

O! then we needna gie a plack,
For dand'ring mountebank or quack,
Wha o' their drogs sae baldly crack,
==An' spred sic notions,
As gar their feckless patients tak
==Their stinkin potions.

Some prie, frail man! for gin thou _art sick_,
The oyster is a rare cathartic,
As ever doctor patient gart lick
==To cure his ails;
Whether you hae the head or heart-ake,
==It ay prevails.

Ye tiplers, open a' your poses,
Ye wha are fash'd wi' plucky noses,
Fling owr your craig sufficient doses,
==You'll thole a hunder,
To fleg awa' your simmer roses,
==An' naething under.

Whan big as burns the gutters rin,
Gin ye hae catcht a droukit skin,
To _Luckie Middlemist's_ loup in,
==An' sit fu' snug
Owr oysters an' a dram o' gin,
==Or haddock lug.

Whan auld Saunt Giles, at aught o'clock,
Gars merchant lowns their shopies lock,
There we adjourn wi' hearty fock,
==To birle our bodles,
An' get wharewi' to crack our joke,
==An' clear our noddles.

Whan Phoebus did his windocks steek,
How aften at that _ingle_ cheek
Did I my frosty fingers beek,
==An' prie gude fare!
I trow there was na hame to seek
==Whan steghin there.

While glakit fools, owr rife o' cash,
Pamper their weyms wi' fousom trash,
I think a chiel may gayly pass;
==He's nae ill boden
That gusts his gab wi' oyster sauce,
==An' _hen_ we'll soden.

At _Musselbrough_, an' eke _Newhaven_,
The fisher-wives will get _top livin'_,
Whan _lads_ gang out on Sundays' even
==To treat their _joes_,
An' tak o' fat pandors a prieven,
==Or _mussel brose_.

Than sometimes, 'ere they flit their _doup_
They'll ablins a' their _siller_ coup
For liquor clear frae cutty stoup,
==To weet their wizzen,
An' swallow owr a dainty soup,
==For fear they grizzen.

A' ye wha canna staun sae sicker,
Whan twice you've toom'd the big-ars'd bicker,
Mix _caller oysters_ wi' your liquor,
==An' I'm your debtor,
If greedy _priest_ or drowthy vicar
==Will thole it better.





BRAID CLAITH.

YE wha are fain to hae your name
Wrote i' the bonny book o' Fame,
Let Merit nae pretension claim
==To laurel'd wreath,
But hap ye weel, baith back an' wame,
==In gude Braid Claith.

He that some ells o' this may fa',
An' slae-black hat on pow like snaw,
Bids bauld to bear the 'gree awa',
==Wi' a' this graith,
Whan bienly clad wi' sheel fu' braw
==O' gude Braid Claith.

Waesuck for him wha has na feck o't!
For he's a gowk they're sure to geck at,
A chiel that ne'er will be respekit,
==While he draws breath,
Till his four quarters are bedeckit
==Wi' gude Braid Claith.

On Sabbath-days the barber spark,
Whan he has done wi' scrapin wark,
Wi' siller broachie in his sark,
==Gangs trigly, faith!
Or to teh Meadow, or the Park,
==In gude Braid Claith.

Weel might ye trow, to see them there,
That they to shave your haffits bare,
Or curl an' sleek a pickle hair
==Would be right laith,
Whan pacing wi' a gawsy air
==In gude Braid Claith.

If ony mettl'd stirrah green
For favour frae a lady's een,
He maunna care for bein' seen
==Before he sheath
His body in a scabbard clean
==O' gude Braid Claith.

For, gin he come wi' coat thread-bare,
A feg for him she winna care,
But crook her bonny mou' fu' sair,
==And scald him baith:
Wooers shou'd ay their travel spare
==Without Braid Claith.

Braid Claith leuds fock an unco heese,
Makes mony kail-worms butterflies,
Gies mony a doctor his degrees
==For little skaith,
In short, you may be what you please
==Wi' gude Braid Claith.

For thof ye had as wise a snout on
As _Shakespeare_ or Sir _Isaac Newton_,
Your judgment fouk would hae a doubt on,
==I'll tak my aith,
Till they cou'd see ye wi' a suit on
==O' gude Braid Claith.





ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF SCOTS MUSIC.

_Mark it, Caesario; it is old and plain,_
_The spinsters and the knitters int he sun,_
_And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,_
_Do use to chant it._
====SHAKESPEARE'S TWELFTH NIGHT

ON Scotia's plains, in days of yore,
When lads and lasses _tartan_ wore,
Saft Music rang on ilka shore,
==In hamely weid;
But Harmony is now no more,
==And _Music_ dead.

Round her the feather'd choir would wing,
Sae bonnily she wont to sing,
And sleely wake the sleeping string,
==Their sang to lead,
Sweet as the zephyrs o' the spring;
==But now she's dead.

Mourn ilka numph and ilka swain,
Ilk sunny hill and dowie glen;
Let weeping streams and _Naiads_ drain
==Their fountain head;
Let Echo swell the dolefu' strain,
==Sin' Music's dead.

Whan the saft vernal breezes ca'
The grey-hair'd Winter's fogs awa',
Naebody than is heard to blaw,
==Near hill or mead,
On chaunter, or an aiten straw,
==Sin' Music's dead.

Nae lasses now, on simmer days,
Will lilt at bleachin o' their claes;
Nae herds on _Yarrow's_ bonny braes,
==Or bank's o' Tweed,
Delight to chaunt their hameil lays,
==Sin' Music's dead.

At glomin now the bagpipe's dumb
Whan weary owsen hameward come;
Sae sweetle as it went to bum,
==And _Pibrachs_ skreed;
We never hear its weirlike hum,
==For Music's dead.

_Maegibbon's_ gane:  Ah! waes my heart!
The man in music maist expert,
Wha cou'd sweet melody impart,
==And tune the reed,
Wi' sic a slee and pawky art;
==But now he's dead.

Ilk carline now may grunt and grane,
Ilk bonny lassie make great mane,
Sin he's awa, I trow there's nane
==Can fill his stead;
The blythest sangster on the plain,
==Alack, is dead!

Now foreign sonnets bear the gree,
And crabbit queer variety
O' sounds fresh sprung frae _Italy_,
==A bastard breed!
Unlike that saft-tongu'd melody
==Whilk now lies dead.

Cou'd _lav'rocks_ at the dawning day,
Cou'd _linties_ chirming frae the spray,
Or todling _burns_ that smoothly play
==O'er gowden bed,
Compare wi' _Birks of Indermay:_
==But now they're dead.

O SCOTLAND! that cou'd yence afford
To bang the pith o' Roman sword,
Winna your songs, wi' joint accord,
==To battle speed,
And fight till MUSIC be restor'd,
==Whilk now lies dead?





HALLOW-FAIR.

AT _Hallowmas_, whan nights grow lang,
=And _starnies_ shine fu' clear,
Whan fock, the nippin cauld to bang,
=Their winter _hap-warms_ wear;
Near Edinbrough a fair there hads,
=I wat there's nane whase name is,
For strappin dames, and sturdy lads,
=And cap and stoup, mair famous
====Than it that day.

Upo' the tap o' ilka lum
=The sun began to keek,
And bad the trig-made maidens come
=A sightly joe to seek
At _Hallow-fair_, whare browsters rare
=Keep gude ale on the gantries,
And dinna scrimp ye o' a skair
=O' kebbucks frae their pantries
====Fu' saut that day.

Here country John in bannet blue,
=An' eke his Sunday's claes on,
Rins after Meg wi' _rokealy_ new,
=An' sappy kisses lays on;
She'll tauntin say, Ye silly coof!
=Be o' your gab mair sparin;
He'll tak the hint, and criesh her loof
=Wi' what will buy her fairing,
====To chow that day.

Here chapmen billies tak their stand,
=An' shaw their _bonny wallies:_
Wow, but they lie fu' gleg aff hand
=To trick the silly fallows:
Heh, Sirs! what cairds and tinklers come,
=An' _ne'er-do-weel_ horse-coupers,
An' spae-wives fenzying to be dumb,
=Wi' a' siclike landloupers,
====To thrive that day.

Here Sawny cries, frae Aberdeen,
="Come ye to me fa need:
"The brawest _shanks_ that e'er were seen
="I'll seel ye cheap an' guid.
"I wyt they are as protty hose
="As come frae _weyr_ or _leem_:
"Here tak a rug, an' shaw's your pose;
="Forseeth, my ain's but teem
===="An' light the day."

Ye wives, as ye gang thro' the fair,
=O mak your bargains hooly!
O' a' thir wylie lowns beware,
=Or fegs they will ye spulzie.
For farin-year _Meg Thamson_ got,
=Frae thir mischievous villains,
A scaw'd bit o' a penny note,
=That lost a score o' shillins
====To her that day.

The dinlin drums alarm our ears,
=The serjeant screechs fu' loud,
"A' gentelmen and volunteers
="That wish your country gude,
"Come here to me, and I sall gie
="Twa guineas an' a crown,
"A bowl o' _punch_ that like the sea
="Will soum a lang dragoon
===="Wi' ease this day."

Without the cuissers prance and nicker,
=An' o'er the ley-rig scud;
In tents the carles bend the bicker,
=An' rant an' roar like wud.
Than there's sic yellowchin and din,
=Wi' wives an' wee-anes gablin,
That ane might trow they were a kin
=To a' the tongues at Babylon,
====Confus'd that day.

Whan _Phoebus_ ligs in _Thetis'_ lap,
=Auld Reikie gies them shelter,
Whare cadgily they kiss the cap,
=An' ca't round helter-skelter.
_Jock Bell_ gaed furth to play his freaks,
=Great cause he had to rue it,
For frae a stark Lochaber aix
=He gat a _clamehewit_,
====Fu' sair that night.

"Ohon!" quo' he, "I'd rather be
="By _sword_ or _bagnet_ stickit,
"Than hae my crown or body wi'
="Sic deadly weapons nickit."
Wi' that he gat anither straik
=Mair weighty than before,
That gar'd his feckless body aik,
=An' spew the reikin gore,
====Fu' red that night.

He peching on the cawsey lay,
=O' kicks and cuffs weel sair'd;
A _Highland_ aith the serjeant gae,
="Sha maun pe see our guard."
Out spal the weirlike corporal,
="Pring in ta drucken sot."
They trail'd him ben, an' by my saul,
=He paid his drucken groat
====For that neist day

Gude fock, as ye come frae the fair,
=Bide yont frae this black squad:
There's nae sic savages elsewhere
=Allow'd to wear cockade.
Than the strong lion's hungry maw,
=Or tusk o' Russian bear,
Frae their wanruly fellin paw
=Mair cause ye hae to fear
====Your death that day.

A wee soup drinks dis unco weel
=To had the heart aboon;
It's gude as lang's a canny chiel
=Can stand steeve in his shoon.
But gin a birkie's owr weel sair'd,
=It gars him aften stammer
To _pleys_ tat bring him to the guard,
=An' eke the _Council-chaumir_,
====Wi' shame that day.





ODE TO THE BEE.

HERDS, blythesome tune your canty reeds,
An' welcome to the gowany meads
The pride o' a' the insect thrang,
A stranger to the green sae lang;
Unfald ilk buss an' ilka brier,
The bounties o' the gleesome year,
To him whase voice delights the spring,
Whase soughs the fastest slumbers bring.

=The trees in simmer-cleething drest,
The hillocks in their greenest vest,
The brawest flow'rs rejoic'd we see,
Disclose their sweets, and ca' on thee,
Blythely to skim on wanton wing
Thro' a' the fairy haunts o' spring.

=Whan fields hae gat their dewy gift,
An' dawnin breaks upo' the lift,
Then gang your wa's thro' _hight_ and' _how_;
Seek caller _haugh_ or sunny _know_,
Or ivy'd _craig_, or _burn-bank brae_,
Whare Industry shall bid you gae,
For hiney, or for waxen store,
To ding sad poortith frae the door.

=Cou'd feckless creature, Man, be wise,
The simmer o' his life to prize,
In winter he might fend fu' bauld,
His eild unkend to nippin cauld,
Yet thir, alas! are antrin fock
That lade their scape wi' winter stock.
Auld age maist feckly glowrs right dour
Upo' the ailings o' the poor,
Wha hope for nae comforting, save
That dowie dismal house the grave.
Then feeble Man, be wise, tak tent
How Industry can fetch content:
Behad the bees whare'er they wing,
Orthro' the bonny bowers o' spring,
Whare vi'lets or whare roses blaw,
An' siller dew-draps nightly fa',
Or whan an open bent they're seen,
On _hether hill_ or _thristle_ green;
The hiney's still as sweet that frows
Frae thistle cauld, or kendling rose.

=Frae this the human race may learn
Reflection's hiney's draps to earn,
Whether they tramp life's thorny way,
Or thro' the sunny vineyard stray.

=Instructive bee! attend me still,
Owr a' my labours sey your skill:
For thee shall hiney-suckles rise,
Wi' lading to your busy thighs,
An' ilka shrub surround my cell,
Whareon ye like to hum an' dwell:
My trees in bourachs owr my ground
Shall fend ye frae ilk blast o' wind:
Nor e'er shall herd, wi' ruthless spike,
Delve out the treasures frae your bike,
But in my fence be safe, an' free
To live, an' work, an' sing like me.

=Like thee, by fancy wing'd, the Muse
Scuds ear' an' heartsome owr the dews,
Fu' vogie, an' fu' blythe to crap
The winsome flow'rs frae Nature's lap,
Twining her living garlands there,
That lyart Time can ne'er impair.





ON SEEING A BUTTERFLY IN THE STREET.

DAFT gowk, in macaroni dress,
Are ye come here to shaw your face,
Bowden wi' pride o' simmer gloss,
To cast a sadh at _Reikie's_ cross;
An' glowr at mony a twa-legg'd creature,
Flees braw by art, tho' worms by nature?

=Like country laird in city cleeding,
Ye're come to town to lear' good breeding;
To bring ilk darling toast an' fashion
In vogue amang the flie creation,
That they, like buskit belles an' beaus,
May crook their mou' fu' sour at those
Whase weird is still to creep, alas!
Unnotic'd 'mang the humle grass;
While ye, wi' wings new buskit trim,
Can far frae yird an' reptiles skim;
Newfangle grown wi' new got form,
Your soar aboon your mither worm.

=Kind nature lent but for a day
Her wings to mak ye sprush an' gay;
In her habauliments a while
Ye may your former sell beguile,
An' ding awa' the vexing thought
O' hourly dwyning into nought,
By beenging to your foppish brithers,
Black corbies dress'd in peacocks' feathers;
Like thee they dander here an' there,
Whan simmer's blinks are warm an' fair,
An' loo to snuff the healthy balm
Whan' E'ening spreads her wing sae calm;
But whan she grins an' glowrs sae dow'r,
Frae Borean houff in angry show'r,
Like thee they scoug frae street or field,
An' hap them in a lyther bield;
For they were never made to dree
The adverse gloom o' Fortune's eie,
Nor ever pried life's pining woes,
Nor pu'd the prickles wi' the rose.

=Poor Butterfly! thy case I mourn,
To green kail-yeard and fruits return:
How cou'd you troke the mavis' note
For "penny pies all piping hot?"
Can lintie's music be compar'd
Wi' _gruntles_ frae the City Guard?
Or can our flow'rs at ten hors bell
The gowan or the spink excell?

=Now shou'd our sclates wi' hailstanes ring,
What cabbage-fauld wad screen your wing?
Say, fluttering fairy! wer't thy hap
To light beneath braw NANNY'S cap,
Wad she, proud butterfly of May!
In pity lat you skaithess stay?
The furies glancin frae her ein
Wad rug your wings o' siller sheen,
That, wae for thee! far, far, outvy
Her PARIS ARTISTS'S finest dye;
Then a' your bonny spraings wad fall,
An' you a WORM be left to crawl.

=To sic mashanter rins the laird
Wha quats his ha'-house and kail-yard,
Grows politician, scours to court,
Whare he's the laughing-stock and sport
O' MINISTERS, wha jeer an' jibe,
An' heeze his hopes wi' thought o' bribe,
Till in the end they flae him bare,
Leave him to poortith, and to care.
Their fleetchin words owr late he sees,
He trudges hame, repines, and dies.

=Sic be their fa' wha dirk thir ben
In blackest business nae their ain;
An' may they scad their lips fu' leal,
That dip their spoons in ither's kail.





ODE TO THE GOWDSPINK.

FRAE fields where SPRING her sweets has blawn
Wi' caller verdue owr the lawn,
The GOWDSPINK comes in new attire,
The brawest 'mang the whistling choir,
That, 'ere the sun can clear his ein,
Wi' glib notes sane the simmer's green.

=Sure NATURE herried mony a tree,
For spraings and bonny spats to thee:
Nae mair the _Rainbow_ can impart
Sic glowing ferlies o' her art,
Whase pencil wrought its freaks at will
On thee, the sey-piece o' her skill.
Nae mair thro' _Straths_ in simmer dight
We seek the ROSE to bless our sight;
Or bid the bonny wa'-flowers sprout
On yonder RUIN'S lofty snout.
Thy shinning garments far outstrip
The sherries upo' HEBE'S lip,
And fool the tints that Nature chose
To busk and paint the crimson rose.

='Mang men, wae's-heat! we aften find
The brawest drest want peace o' mind,
While he that gangs wi' ragged coat
Is weel contentit wi' his lot.
Whan WAND wi' glewy birdlime's set,
To steal far aff your dautit mate,
Blyth wad ye change your cleething gay
In lieu of lav'rock's sober gray.
In vain thro' woods you sair may ban
The envious treachery of man,
That wi' you gowden glister ta'en,
Still hunts yon on the simmer's plain,
And traps you 'mang the sudden fa's
O' winter's dreery dreepin snaws.
Now steekit frae the gowany field,
Frae ilka fa'rite houff and bield,
But mergh, alas! to disengage
Your bonny buik frae fettering cage,
Your free-born bosom beats in vain
For darling liberty again.
In WINDOW hung, how aft we see
Thee keek around at warblers free,
That carrol saft, and sweelty sing
Wi' a' the blytheness o' the spring?
Like TANTALUS they hing you here
To spy the glories o' the year;
And tho' you're at the _burnie's_ brink,
They douna suffer you to drink.

=Ah, Liberty! thou bonny dame,
How wildly wanton is thy stream,
Round whilk the birdies a' rejoice,
An'  hail you wi' a gratefu' voice.
The Gowdspink chatters joyous here,
And courts wi' gleesome sangs his peer;
The MAVIS frae the new-bloom'd thorn
Begins his _lauds_ at earest morn;
And herd lowns loupin o'er the grass
Needs far less fleetching till his lass,
Then paughty damsels bred at courts,
Wha thraw their mou's, and take the dorts;
But, reft of thee, fient flee we care
For a' that life ahint can spare.
The _Gowdspink_, that sae lang has kend
Thy happy sweets (his wonted friend,)
Her sad confinement ill can brook
In some dark chaumer's dowy nook:
Tho' MARY'S hand his nebb supplies,
Unkend to hunger's paify' cries,
Ev'n beauty canna chear the heart
Frae life, frae liberty apart;
For now we tyne its wonted lay,
Sae lightsome sweet, sae blythly gay.

=Thus FORTUNE aft a curse can gie,
To wyle us far frae liberty:
Then tent her syren smiles wha list,
I'll ne'er envy your GIRNEL's _grist_;
For whan fair freedom smiles nae mair,
Care I for life?  Shame fa' the hair;
A FIELD o'ergrown wi' rankest STUBBLE,
The essence o' a paltry bubble.





CALLER WATER.

WHAN father _Adie_ first pat spade in
The bonny years o' antient Eden,
His amry had nae liquor laid in
==To fire his mou'
Nor did he thole his wife's upbraidin
==For being fou.

A Caller burn o' siller sheen,
Ran cannily out owr the green,
And whan our gutcher's drouth had been
==To bide right sair,
He loutit down and drank bedeen
==A dainty skair.

His bairns had a' before the flood
A langer tack o' flesh and blood,
And on mair pithy shanks they stood
==Than _Noah's_ line.
Wha still hae been a feckless brood
==Wi' drinking wine.

The fuddlin Bardies now-a-days
Rin _maukin_-mad in Bacchus' praise,
And limp and stoiter thro' their lays
==_Anacreontic_,
While ilk his sea of wine displays
==As big's the Pontic.

My Muse will nae gae far frae hame,
Or scour a' airths to hound for fame;
In troth the jillet ye might blame
==For thinking on't,
Whan aithly she can find the theme
==Of _aqua font_.

This is the name that doctors use
Their patients noddles to confuse;
Wi' _simples_ clad in terms abstruse,
==They labour still,
in kittle words to gar yr roose
==Their want o' skill.

But we'll hae nae sic clitter-clatter,
And brifly to expound the matter,
It shall be ca'd guid _Caller Water_,
==Than whilk I trow,
Few drugs in doctor's shops are better
==For me or you.

Tho' joints be stiff as ony _rung_,
Your pith wi' pain be sairly dung,
Be you in _Caller Water_ flung
==Out o'er the lugs,
'Twill mak ye souple, swack adn  young,
==Withouten drugs.

Tho' cholic or the heart-scad teaze us,
Or ony inward dwaam should seize us,
It masters a' sic fell diseases,
==That would ye spulzie,
And brings them to a canny crisis
==Wi' little tulzie.

Werlt na for it the bonny lasses
Wou'd glowr nae mair in keeking glasses,
And soon tine dint o' a' the graces
==That aft conveen
In gleefu' looks and bonny faces,
==To catch our ein.

The fairest than might die a maid,
And Cupid quit his shooting trade,
For wha' thro' clarty _masquerade_
==Could then discover,
Whether the features under shade
==Were worth a lover?

As simmer rains bring simmer flow'rs,
And leaves to cleed the _birkin bow'rs_,
Sae beauty get by caller show'rs
=+Sae rich a bloom,
As for estate, or heavy dow'rs
==Aft stands in room.

What maks Auld Reikie's dames sae fair?
It canna be the halesome air,
But _caller burn_ beyond compare,
==The best o' ony,
That gars them a' sic graces skair,
==And blink sae bonny.

On _May-day_, in a fairy ring,
We've seen them round _St. Anthon's_ spring,
Frae grass the caller _dew-draps_ wring
==To weet their ein,
And water clear as chrystal spring,
==To synd them clean.

O may they still pursue the way,
To look sae feat, sae clean, say gay!
Than shall their beauties glance like _May_,
==And, like her, be,
The Goddess of the spray,
==The Muse and me.





THE SITTING OF THE SESSION.

PHOEBUS, sair cow'd wi' simmer's hight,
Cours near the YIRD wi' blinking light;
Cauld shaw the haughs, nae mair bedight
==Wi' simmer's claes,
They heeze the heart o' dowy wight
==That thro' them gaes.

Weel loes me o' you, BUSINESS, now;
For ye'll weet mony a drouthy mou'
That's lang a eisning gane for you,
==Withouten fill
O' dribbles frae the gude _brown cow_,
==Or highland gill.

The COURT O' SESSION, weel wat I,
Pits ilk chield's _whittle_ i' the pye,
Can criesh the slaw-gaun wheels whan dry
==Till Session's done,
Tho' they'll gie mony a cheap and cry
==Or twalt o' June.

Ye benders a', the dwall in joot,
You'll tak your liquor clean cap out,
Synd your mouse webs wi' reaming stout,
==While ye hae cash,
An' gar your cares a' tak the rout,
==An' thumb ne'er fash.

ROB GIBB'S grey gizz, new frizzl'd fine,
Will white as ony snaw-ba' shine;
Weel does he loe the LAWEN coin
==Whan dossied down,
For whisky gills or dribbs o' wine
==In cauld forenoon.

Bar-keepers now, at OUTER DORE,
Tak tent as fock gang back an' fore;
The fient ane there but pays his score,
==Nane wins toll-free,
Tho' ye've a CAUSE the house before,
==Or agent be.

Gin ony here wi' CANKER knocks,
And has na lous'd his siller pocks,
Ye needna think to fleetch or cox;
=="Come shaw's your gear;
"Ae _scabbit yew_ spills twenty FLOCKS,
==Ye's nae be here."

Now at the door they'll raise a plea;
Crack on, my lads!-for flyting's free;
For gin ye shou'd tongue-tacket be,
==The mair's the pity,
Whan scalding but and ben we see
==PENDENTE LITE.

The LAWYERS' _skelfs_, and PRINTERS' _presses_,
Grain unco sair wi' weighty cases;
The _clark_ in toil his pleasure places,
==To thrive bedeen;
At five-hour's bell scribes shaw their faces,
==And rake their ein.

The country fock to lawyers crook,
"Ah! weels me on your bonny buik!
"The benmost part o' my kist nook
=="I'll ripe for thee,
"And willing ware my hindmost rook
=="For my decree.

But LAW'S a DRAW-WELL unco deep,
Withouten RIM fock out to keep;
A donnart chiel, whan drunk, may dreep
==Fu' sleely in,
But finds the gate baith _stay_ and _steep_,
=='Erre out he win.





THE RISING OF THE SESSION

To a' men living be it kend,
The SESSION now is at an end:
Writers, your finger-nebbs unbend,
==And quat the pen,
Till _Time_ wi' lyart pow shall send
==Blyth June again.

Tir'd o' the law and a' its phrases,
The wylie _writers_, rich as _Croesus_,
Hurl frae the town in hackney chaises,
==For country cheer:
The _powney_ that in spring-time grazes
==Thrives a' the year.

Ye lawyers, bid fareweel to lies,
Fareweel to din, fareweel to fees,
The canny hours o' rest may please,
==Instead o' siller:
Hain'd _multer_ hads the mill at ease,
==And find the _miller_.

Blythe they may be wha wanton play
In _Fortune's_ bonny blinkin ray,
Fu' weel can they ding dool away
==Wi' comrades couthy,
And never dree a hungert day,
==Or e'ening drouthy.

Ohon! the day for him that's laid
In dowie _poortith's_ caldrife shade,
Ablins o'er honest for his trade,
==He racks his wits,
How he may get his buik weel clad,
==And fill his guts.

The farmers sons, as yap as sparrows,
Are glad, I tro, to flee the barras,
And whistle to the plough and harrows
==At barley seed:
What writer wadna gang as far as
==He cou'd for bread.

After their yokin, I wat weel
They'll stoo the kebbuck to the heel;
Eith can the plough-stilts gar a chiel
==Be unco vogie,
Clean to lick aff his crowdy-meal,
==And scart his _cogie_.

Now mony a fallow's dung adrift
To a' the blasts beneath the lift,
And tho' their stamack's aft in tift
==In vacance-time,
Yet seenil do they ken the rift
==O' stappit weym.

Now gin a _Notar_ shou'd be wanted,
You'll find the _pillars_ gayly planted;
For little thing _protests_ are granted
==Upo' a bill,
And weightiest matters covenanted
==For half a gill.

Nae body taks a morning dribb
O' _Holland gin_ frae _Robin Gibb_;
And tho' a dram to Rob's mair sib
==Than is his wife,
He maun tak time to daut his _Rib_
==Till siller's rife.

This _vacance_ is a heavy doom
On _Indian Peter's_ coffee-room,
For a' his china pigs are toom;
==Nor do we see
In wine the sucker biskets soom
==As light's a flee.

But stop, my Muse, nor mak a mane,
_Pate_ disna fend on that alane;
He can fell twa dogs wi' ae bane,
==While ither fock
Maun rest themsels content wi' ane,
==Nor farrer trock.

Ye change-house keepers never grumble,
Tho' you a while your bickers whumble,
Be unco patientfa' and humble,
==Nor mak a din,
Tho' gude _joot_ binna kent _to_ rumble
==Your weym within.

You needna grudge to draw your breath
Forlittle mair than half a reath,
Than, gin we a' be spar'd frae death,
==We'll gladly prie
Fresh noggans o' your reaming graith
==Wi' blythsome glee.





LEITH RACES.

I.

IN July month, ae bonny morn,
=Whan Nature's rokelay green
Was spread o'er ilka rigg o' corn
=To charm our robing een;
Glouring about I saw a quean,
=The fairest 'neath the lift;
Her _een_ were o' the siller sheen,
=Her _skin_ like snawy drift,
====Sae white that day.

II.

Quod she, "I ferly unco sair,
="That ye sud musand gae,
"Ye wha hae sung o' HALLOW-FAIR,
="Her winter's pranks and play:
"Whan on LEITH-SANDS the racers rare,
="Wi' jockey louns are met,
"Their orro pennies there to ware,
="And drown themsel's in debt
===="Fu' deep that day."

III.

An wha are ye, my winsome dear,
=That takes the gate sae early?
Whare do ye win, gin ane may spear,
=For I right meikle ferly,
That sic braw buskit laughing lass
=Thir bonny blinks shou'd gie,
An' loup like _Hebe_ o'er the grass,
=As wanton and as free
====Frae dule this day?

IV.

"I dwall amang the caller spings
="That weet the _Land o' Cakes_,
"And aften tune my canty strings
="At _bridals_ and _late-wakes._
"They ca' me _Mirth;_ I ne'er was kend
="To grumble or look sour,
"But buth wad be a lift to lend,
="Gin ye wad sey my pow'r
===="An' pith this day."

V.

A bargain be't, and, by my fegs,
=Gif ye will be my mate,
Wi' you I'll screw the cheery pegs;
=Ye shanna find me blate;
We'll reel an' ramble thro' the sands,
=An' jeer wi' a' we meet;
Nor hip the daft an' gleesome bands
=That fill Edina's street
====Sae thrang this day.

VI.

'Ere servant maids had wont to rise
=To seeth the breakfast kettle,
Ilk dame her brawest ribbons tries,
=To put her on her mettle,
Wi' wiles some silly chiel to trap
=(An' troth he's fain to get her,)
But she'll craw kniefly in his crap,
=Whan, wow! he canna flit her
====Frae hame that day.

VII.

Now mony a scaw'd and bare-ars'd lown
=Rise early to their wark,
Eneugh to fley a muckle town,
=Wi' dinsome squeel an' bark:
"Here is the true an' faithfu' list
="O' Noblemen an' Horses;
"Their eild, their weight, their height, their grist,
="That rin for _Plates_ or _Purses_
===="Fu' fleet this day."

VIII.

To _whisky Plooks_ that brunt for wooks
=On town-guard soldiers' faces,
Their barber bauld his whittle crooks,
=An' scrapes them for the races:
Their _Stumps_ erst us'd to _Filipegs_,
=Are dight in spatterdashes,
Whase barkent hides scarce fend their legs
=Frae weet an' weary plashes
===O' dirt that day.

IX.

"Come, hafe a care (the captain cries),
="On gums your bagnets thraw;
"Now mind your manual exercise,
="An' marsh down raw by raw."
And as they march he'll glowr about,
='Tent a' their cuts and scars:
'Mang them fell mony a gausy snout
=Has gusht in birth-day wars,
====Wi' blude that day.

X.

Her _Nanesel_ maun be carefu' now,
=Nor maun she be misleard,
Sin baxter lads hae seal'd a vow
=To skelp an' clout the guard;
I'm sure _Auld Reikie_ kens o' nane
=That wou'd be sorry at it,
Tho' they shou'd dearly pay the kane,
=An' get thei tails weel sautit
====An' sair this days.

XI.

The tinkler billies i' the _Bow_
=Are now less eident clinking,
As lang's their pith or siller dow,
=They're daffin and they're drinking.
Bedown _Leith-walk_ what bourochs reel
=O' ilka trade and station,
That gar their wives an' childer feel
=Toom weyms for their libation
====O' drink thir days.

XII.

The browster wives thegither harl
=A' trash that they can fa' on;
They rake the grunds o' ilka barrel,
=To profit by the lawen:
For weel wat they a skin leal het
=For drinking needs nae hire;
At durmly gear they take nae pet:
=Foul _wear_ slockens _fire_,
====And drouth thir days.

XIII.

They say ill ale has been the deid
=O' mony a beirdly lown;
Then dinna gape like gelds wi' greed
=To sweel hail bickers down:
Gin Lord send mony ane the morn,
=They'll ban fu' sair the time
That o'er the toutit aff the horn,
=Which wambles thro' their weym
====Wi' pain that day.

XIV.

The Buchan bodies thro' the beech
=Their bunch o' _Findrums_ cry,
An' skirl out baul' in Norland speech,
="Guid speldings, fa will buy?"
An', by my saul, they're nae wrang gear
=Yo gust a stirrah's mow;
Weel staw'd wi' them, he'll never spear
=The price o' being fu'
====Wi' drink that day.

XV.

Now wyly wights at _Rowly Powl_,
=An' flingan' o' the _Dice_,
Here brake the banes o' mony a soul
=Wi' fa's upo' the ice:
At first the gate seems fair an' straught,
=Sae they had fairly till her;
But wow! inspite o' a' their maught,
=They're rookit o' their siller
====An' gowd that day.

XVI.

Around where'er you fling your een,
=The _Haiks_ like wind are scourin';
Some chaises honest folk contain,
=An' some hae mony a _Whore_ in;
Wi' rose and lilly, red and white,
=They gie themselves sic fit airs,
Liek DIAN, they will seem perfite;
=But it's nae gowd that glitters
====Wi' them thir days

XVII.

The LYON here wi' open paw,
=May cleek in mony hunder,
Wha geck at SCOTLAND and her law,
=His wyly talons under;
For ken, tho' JAMIE'S laws are auld,
=(Thanks to the wise recorder!)
=His Lyon yet roars loud and bauld,
=To had the Whigs in order
====Sae prime this day.

XVIII.

To town-guard DRUM, of clangor clear,
=Baith men and steeds are raingit;
Some liveries red or yellow wear,
=And some are tartan spraingit:
And now the red, the blue e'en-now,
=Bids fairest for the market;
But, 'ere the sport be done, I trow
=Their skins are gayly yarkit
====And peel'd thir days.

XIX.

Siclike in PANTHEON dabates,
=Whan twa chiels hae a pingle;
E'en now some couli gets his aits,
=An' dirt wi' words they mingle;
Till up loups he wi' diction fu',
=There's lang and dreech contesting;
For now they're near the point in view,
=Now ten miles frae the question
====In hand that night.

XX.

The races o'er, they hale the dools
=Wi' drink o' a kin-kind;
Great feck gae hirpling hame like fools,
=The cripple lead the blind.
May ne'er the canker o' the drink
=E'er mak our spirits thrawart,
'Case we git wharewitha' to wink
=Wi' een as _blus's_ a _blawart_
====Wi' _straiks_ this days!





THE FARMER'S INGLE.

=_Et multo in primis hilaraus convivia Baccho,_
=_Ante focum, si frigus erit._====VIRG. BUC.

I.

WHAN gloming grey out o'er the welkin keeks,
=Whan _Batie_ ca's his owsen to the byre,
Whan _Thrasher John_, sair dung, his barn-dore steeks,
=And lusty lasses at the dighting tire:
What bangs fu' leal the e'enings coming cauld,
=And gars snaw tapit winter freeze in vain;
Gars dowie mortals look baith blyth and bauld,
=Nor fley'd wi' a' the poortith o' the plain;
=Begin, my Muse, and chaunt in hamely strain.

II.

Frae the big stack, weel winnow't on the hill,
=Wi' _divets_ theekit frae the weet and drift,
_Sods, peats,_ and _heth'ry trufs_ the chimley fill,
=And gar their thick'ning smeek salute the lift;
The _gudeman_, new come hame, is blyth to find,
=Whan he out o'er the _halland_ flings his een,
That ilka turn is handled to his mind,
=That a' his housie looks sae cosh and clean;
=For cleanly house loes he, tho' e'er sae mean.

III.

Weel kens the _gudewife_ that the pleughs require
=A heartsome _meltith_, and refreshing synd
O' nappy liquor, o'er a bleezing fire:
=Sair wark and poortith douna weel be join'd.
Wi' butter _bannocks_ nwo the _girdle_ reeks:
=I' the far nook the _bowie_ briskly reams;
The readied _kail_ stands by the chimley cheeks,
=And had the riggin het wi' welcome streams;
=Whilk than the daintiest kitchen nicer seems.

IV.

Frae this lat gentler gabs a lesson lear;
=Wad they to labouring lend an eident hand,
They'd rax fell strang upo' the simplest fare,
=Nor find their stamacks ever at a stand.
Fu' hale and healthy wad they pass the day,
=At night in calmeset slumbers dose fu' sound,
Nor doctor need their weary life to spae,
=Nor drogs their noddle and their sense confound,
=Will death slip sleely on, and gie the hindmost wound.

V.

On sicken food has mony a doughty deed
=By Caledonia's ancestors been done;
By this did mony a wight fu' weirlike bleed
=In _brulzies_ frae the dawn to set o' sun;
'Twas this that brac'd their _gardies_, stiff an' strang,
=That bent the deidly yew in ancient days,
Laid Denmark's daring sons on yird alang,
=Gar'd Scottish _thristles_ bang the Roman _bays;_
=For near our _crest_ their heads they doughtna raise.

Vi.

The couthy cracks begin whan supper's o'er,
=The cheering _bicker_ gars them glibly gash
=O' simmer's _showery blinks_ and winters sour,
=Whase floods did erst their mailin's produce hash.
'Bout _kirk_ and _market_ eke their tales gae on,
=How _Jock_ woo'd _Jenny_ here to be his bride,
And there how _marion_, for a bastart son,
=Upo' the _cutty-stool_ was forc'd to ride,
=The waefu' scald o' our _Mess John_ to bide.

VII.

The fient a chiep's amang the barnies now,
=For a' their anger's wi' their hunger gane:
Ay maun the childer, wi' a fastin' mou',
=Grumble and greet, and make an unco mane.
In rangles round before the ingle's low,
=Frae _Gudame's_ mouth auld warld tale they hear,
O' _Warlocks_ loupin round the _Wirrikow_,
=O' gaists that win in glen and kirk-yard drear,
=Whilk touzles a' their tap, and gars them shak wi' fear.

VIII.

For weel she trows that fiends and fairies be
=Sent frae the de'il to fleetch us to our ill;
That ky hae tint their milk wi' evil eie,
=And corn been scowder'd on the glowing kill.
O mock na this, my friends! but rather mourn,
=Ye in life's brawest psring wi' reason clear,
Wi' eild our idle fancies a' return,
=And dim our dolfu' days wi' bairnly fear;
=The mind's ay _cradled_ whan the _grave_ is near.

IX.

Yet _thrift_, industrious, bides her latest days,
=Tho' age her sair dow'd front wi' runkles wave,
Yet frae the russet lap the _spindle_ plays,
=Her e'ening stent reels she as weel's the lave.
On some feast-day, the _wee-things_ buskit braw
=Shall heeze her heart up wi' a silent joy,
Fu' caidgie that her head was up and saw
=Her ain spun cleething on a darling boy,
=Careless tho' death shou'd mak the feast her foy.

X.

In its auld _lerroch_ yet the _deas_ remains,
=Whare the gudeman aft streeks him at his ease,
A warm and canny lean for weary banes
=O' lab'rers doil'd upo' the wintry leas:
Round him will _badrins_ and the _colly_ come,
=To wag their tail, and cast a thanfu' eie
To him wha kindly flings them mony a crum
=O' kebbock whang'd, and dainty fadge to prie;
=This a' boon they crave, and a' the fee.

XI.

Frae him the _lads_ their morning counsel tak,
=What stacks he wants to thrash, what rigs to till;
How big a birn maun lie on _bassie's_ back,
=For meal and multure to the _thirling mill_.
Niest the gudewife her cireling damsels bids
=Glour thro' the byre, and see the hawkies bound,
Take ten case _Crummy_ tak her wonted tids,
=And ca' the laiglen's treasure o' the ground,
=Whilk spills a _kebbock_ nice, or yellow _pound_.

XII.

Then a' the house for sleep begins to grien,
=Their joints to clask frae industry a while:
The leaden God fa's heavy on their ein,
=And hafflin steeks them frae their daily toil
The cruizy too can only blink and bleer,
=The restit ingle's done the maist it dow;
Tacksman and cottar eke to bed maun steer,
=Upo' the cod to clear their drumly pow,
=Till waken'd by the dawning'd ruddy glow.

XIII.

Peace to the husbandman and a' his tribe,
=Whase care fells a' our wants frae year to year!
Lang may his sock and couter turn the gleyb!
=And bauks o' corn bend down wi' lladed ear!
May SCOTIA'S simmers ay look gay and green,
=Her yellow har'st frae scowry blasts decreed!
May a' her tenants sit fu' snug and bem,
=Frae the hard grip o' ails and poortith freed,
=And a lang lasting train o' peaceful hours succeed!





THE ELECTION.

_Nunc est bibendum, et bendere_ BICKERUM _magnum;_
_Cavete_ TOWN-GUARDUM, D--l G-dd-m _atque_ C-pb---m.

I.

Rejoice, ye BURGHERS, ane an' a',
=Lang look't for's come at last;
Sair war your backs hald to the wa'
=Wi' _poortith_ an' wi' _fast:_
Nwo ye may clap your wings an' craw,
=And gayly busk ilk' feather,
For _Deacon Cocks_ hae pass'd a law
=To rax an' weet your leather
====Wi' drink thir days.

II.

Haste _Epps_, quo John, an' bring my gizz!
=Tak tent ye dinna't spulzie;
Last night the barber gae't a frizz,
=An' straikit it wi' ulzie.
Hae done your _paritch_, lassie _Lizz_,
=Gie me my sark an' gravat;
I'se be as braw's the Deacon is
=Whan he taks _affidavit_
====O' _Faith_ the day.

III.

Whare's _Johnny_ gaun, cries neebour _Bess_,
=That he's sae gayly bodin,
Wi' new kaim'd wig, weel syndet face,
=Silk hose, for hamely hodin?
"Our Johnny's nae sma' drink you'll guess,
="He's trig as ony muir-cock,
"An; forth to mak a Deacon, lass;
="He downa speak to poor fock.
===="Like us the day."

IV.

The _coat_ ben-by i' the kist-nook,
=That's been this twomonth swarming,
Is brought yence mair thereout to look,
=To fleg awa the vermin;
Menzies o' _moths_ an' _flaes_ are shook,
=An' i' the floor they howder,
Till in a birn beneath the crook
=They're sing it wi' a scowder
====To death that day.

V.

The canty cobler quats his sta',
=His _rozet_ an' his _lingans;_
His buik has dreed a sair, sair fa'
=Frae meals o' _bread_ an' _ingans:_
Now he's a pow o' _wit_ an' _law_,
=An' taunts at soals an' heels;
To _Walker's_ he can rin awa'
=There whang his _creams_ an' _jeels_
====Wi' life that day.

VI.

The lads in order tak their seat,
=(The de'il may claw the clungest!)
They stegh an' connoch sae the meat,
=Their teeth mak mare than tongue haste;
Their _claes_ sae cleanly tight an' feat,
=An' eke their craw-black _beavers_,
Like _masters_ mows hae found the gate
=To tassels teugh wi' slavers
====Fu' lang that day.

VII.

The dinner done, for brandy strang
=They cry to weet their thrapple,
=To gar the stamack bide the bang,
=Nor wi' its laden grapple.
The grace is said-its nae o'er lang;
=The claret reams in bells;
Quod _Deacon_ let the toast roung gang,
="Come, here's out _Noble sel's_
===="_Weel met_ the day."

VIII.

Weels me o' drink, quo' _cooper_ Will,
=My _barrel_ has been geyz'd ay,
An' has nae gotten sic a fill
=Sin fu' on Handsel-Teysday:
But makes-na, now it's got a sweel,
=Ae gird I shanna cast lad,
Or else I wish the horned de'il
=May _Will wi' kittle cast dad
====To H-ll the day.

IX.

The _Magistrates_ fu' wyly are,
=Their lamps are gayly blinkin,
But they might as leive burn elsewhare,
=Whan fock's _blind fu'_ wi' drinkin.
Our _Deacon_ wadna ca' a chair,
=The foul ane durst him na-day;
He took _shanks-naig_, but fient may care!
=He _arslins_ kiss'd the causey
====Wi' _bir_ that night.

X.

Weel loes me o' you, souter _Jock_,
=For tricks ye buit be trying,
Whan greapin for his ain bed-stock,
=He's fa's whare _Will's_ wife's lying:
_Will_ coming hame wi' ither fock,
=He saw _Jock_ there before him;
Wi' _Maister Laiglen_, like a brock,
=He did wi' stink maist smore him
====Fu' strang that night.

XI.

Then wi' a' souple leathern whang
=He gart them fidge and girn ay,
"Faith, chiel, ye's nae for naething gang,
="Gin ye maun reel my pirny."
Syne wi' a muckle aishin lang
=He brodit _Maggie's_ hurdies;
An' cause he thought her i' the wrang,
=There pass'd nae bonny wordies
===='Tween them that night.

XII.

Now, had some laird his lady fand
=In sic unseemly courses,
It might hae loos'd the haly band,
=Wi' law-suits an' _diverces:_
But the niest day they a' shook hands,
=And ilka _crack_ did sowder,
While _Megg_ for drink her apron pawns,
=For a the gude-man cow'd her
====Whan fu' last night.

XIII.

Glowr roung the cawsey, up an' down,
=What mobbing and hat plotting!
Here politicians bribe a loun
=Against his saul for voting.
The gowd that inlakes half a crown
=Thir blades lug out to try them,
They pouch the gowd, nor fash the town
=For weights an' scales to weight them
====Exact that day.

XIV.

Then _Deacons_ at the counsel stent
=To get themsel's presentit:
For towmonths twa thier soul is lent,
=FOr the town's gude indentit:
Lang's their debating thereanent,
=About _Protests_ they're bauthrin;
While _Sandy Fife_, to make content,
=On _Bells_ plays _Clout the Caudron_
====To them that day.

XV.

Ye lowns that troke in doctor's stuff,
=You'll now hae unco slaisters;
Whan windy blaws their _stamacks puff,
=They'll need baith pills and plaisters;
For tho' e'en-now they look right bluff,
=Sic drinks, 'ere _hillocks_ meet,
Will hap some Deacons in a truff
=Inrow'd in the lang leet
====O' death yon night.





TO THE TRON-KIRK BELL.

WANWORDY, crazy, dinsome thing,
As e'er was fram'd to jow or ring,
What gar'd them sic in steeple'ning
==They ken themsel',
But weel wat I they coudna bring
==War sounds frae hell.

What de'il are ye? that I shou'd bann,
Your neither kin to pat nor pan;
Nor _uly pig_, nor _maister-cann_,
==But weel may gie
Mair pleasure to the ear o' man
==Than stroke o' thee.

_Fleece merchants_ may look bald, I trow,
Sin a' _Auld Reikie's_ childer now
Maun stap their lugs wi' teats o' woo,
==Thy sound to bang,
And keep it frae gawn thro' and thro'
==Wi' jarrin' twang.

Your noisy tongue, there's nae abidin't,
Like scaulding wife's, ther eis nae guidin't:
Whan I'm 'bout ony bis'ness eident,
==It's sair to thole:
To deave me then, ye take a pride in't
==Wi' senseless knoll.

O! were I Provost o' the town,
I swear by a' the pow'rs aboon,
I'd bring ye wi' a reesle down;
==Nor shud you think
(Sae sair I'd crack and clour your crown)
==Again to clink.

For whan I've toom'd the meikle cap,
An' fain wad fa' owr in a nap,
Troth I cou'd doze as soun's a tap,
==Wer't na for thee,
That gies the tither weary chap
==To wauken me.

I dreamt ae night I saw Auld Nick;
Quo' he, "This bell o' mine's a trick,
"A wyly piece o' politic,
=="A cunnin snare
"To trap fock in a cloven stick,
=="'Ere they're aware.

"As lang's my dautit bell hings there,
"A' body at the kirk will skair;
"Quo' they, gif he that preaches there
=="Like it can wound,
"We douna care a single hair
=="For joyfu' sound."

If magistrates wi' me wud 'gree,
For ay _tongue-takit_ shud ye be,
Nor fleg wi' _antimelody_
==Sic honest fock,
Whase lungs were never made to dree
==Thy doolfu' shock.

But far frae thee the _bailies_ dwell,
Or they wud scunner at your knell,
Gie the _foul thief_ his riven bell,
==And than, I trow,
The by-word adds, "the de'il himsel;
=="Has got his due."





MUTUAL COMPLAINT OF PLAINSTANES AND CAUSEY, IN THEIR MOTHER TONGUE.

SIN _Merlin_ laid Auld Reikie's causey,
And made her o' his wark right saucy,
The spacious _street_ and _plainstanes_
Were never kend to crack but anes,
Whilk happen'd on the hinder night,
Whan _Fraser's_ uly tint its light;
O' Highland sentries nane were waukin,
To hear their cronies glibbly taukin;
For them this wonder might hae rotten,
And, like _night robb;ry_, been forgotten,
Had na' a cadie, wi' his lanthron,
Been gleg enough to hear them bant'rin,
Wha came to me neist morning early,
To gie me tidings o' this ferly.

=Ye taunting lowns, trow this nae joke,
For anes the ass of Balaam spoke,
Better than lawyers do, forsooth,
For it spake naething but the truth!
Whether they follow its example,
You'll ken best whan you hear the sample.

PLAINSTANES.

=My friend, this hunder years and mair,
We've been forfoughen late and air,
In sun-shine, and in weety weather,
Our thrawart lot we bure thegither.
I never growl'd, but was content
han ilk ane had an equal stent;
But now to flyte I'se e'en be bauld,
Whan I'm wi' sic a grievance thrall'd.
In sun-shine, and in weety weather,
Our thrawart lot we bure thegither.
I never growl'd, but was content
Whan ilk ane had an equal stent;
How ahps it, say, that mealy bakers,
Hair-kaimers, crieshy gizy-makers,
Shou'd a' get leave to waste their powders
Upo' my beaux and ladies shoulders?
My travellers are fley'd to deid
Wi' creels wanchancy, heap'd wi' bread,
Frae whilk hing down uncanny nicksticks,
That aften gie the maidens sic licks,
As make them blyth to skreen their faces
Wi' _hats_ and muckle maun _bon-graces_,
And cheat the lads that fain wad see
The glances o' a pauky eie,
Or gie thir loves a wylie wink,
That erst might lend their hearts a clink!
Speak, was I made to dree the ladin
O' Gallic chairman heavy treadin,
Wha in my tender buke bore holes
Wi' waefu' tackets i' the soals
O' broggs, whilk on my body tramp,
And wound like death at ilka clamp?

CAUSEY.

=Weil crackit, frient - It aft had true
Wi' naething fock make maist ado:
Weel ken ye, tho' you doughtna tell,
I pay the sairest kain mysell;
Owr me ilk day big waggons rumble,
And a' my fabric birze and jumble;
Owr me the muckle horses gallop,
Eneugh to rug my very saul up;
And coachmen never trow they're sinning,
While down the street their wheels are spinning.
Like thee, do I not bide the brunt
O' Highland chairman's heavy dunt?
Yet I hae never thought o' breathing
Complaint, or making din for naething.

PLAINSTANES.

=Had sae, and let me get a word in,
Your back's best fitted for the burden;
And I can eithly tell you why,
Ye're doughtier by far than I;
For whin-stanes, howkit frae the craigs,
May thole the prancing feet o' naigs,
Nor ever fear uncanny hotches
Frae clumsy carts or hackney-coaches,
While I, a weak and feckless creature,
Am moudled by a safter nature.
Wi' mason's chissel dighted neat,
To gar me look baith clean and feat,
I scarce can bear a sairer thump
Than come frae sole o' shoe or pump.
I grant, indeed, that now and than,
Yield to a _paten's_ pith I maun;
But patens, tho' they're aften plenty,
Are ay laid down wi' feet fu' tenty,
And stroaks frae ladies, tho' they're teazing,
I freely maun avow are pleasing.
Whether the provost and the bailies,
For the town's gude whase daily toil is,
Shou'd listen to our joint petitions,
And see obtemper'd the conditions.

PLAINSTANES.

Content am I - But east the gate is
The Sun, wha taks his leave o' Thetis,
And comes to waken honest fock,
That gang to wark at sax o'clockl
It sets us to be dumb a while,
And let our words gie place to toil.





A DRINK ECLOGUE.

LANDLADY, BRANDY, AND WHISKY.

=ON auld worm-eaten skelf, in cellar drunk,
Whare hearty benders synd their drouthy trunk,
Twa shappin bottles pang'd wi' liquor fu',
BRANDY the tane, the tither WHISKY blue,
Grew canker'd; for the twa were het within,
An' het-skin'd fock to flyting soon begin:
The FRENCHMAN fizz'd, and first wad fit the field,
While paughty SCOTSMAN scorn'd to beenge or yield.

BRANDY.

=Black be your fa! ye cottar loun mislear'd,
Blawn by the _Porters, Chairman, City-Guard;_
Hae ye nae breeding, that you cock your nose
Against my sweetly gusted cordial dose.
I've been near pauky courts,a dn aften there
Hae ca'd _hystericks_ frae the dowy fair;
And _courtiers_ aft gaed greening for my smack,
To gar them bauldly glour, and gashly crack.
The _priests_, to bang mishanters black and cares,
Hae sought me in his closet for his prayers.
What tig then takes the fates, that they can thole
Thrawart to fix me i' this weary hole,
Sair fash'd wi' din, wi' darkness, and wi' stinks,
Whare cheery day-light tho' the mirk ne'er blinks.

WHISKY.

=But ye maun be content, and maunna rue,
Tho' erst ye've bizz'd in bonny madam's mou';
Wi' thoughts like thae your heart may fairly dunt;
The warld's now chang'd, it's nae like use and wont;
For here, wae's me! there's nouther lord nor laird
Come to get heartscad frae their stamack skair'd:
Nae mair your courtier louns will shaw their face,
For they glour eiry at a friend's disgrace;
But heeze your heart up - Whan at court you hear
The patriot's _thrapple_ wat wi' reaming _beer;_
Whan _chairman_, weary wi' his daily gain,
Can synd his _whistle_ wi' the clear _champaign:_
Be hopefu', for the time will soon row round,
Whan you'll nae langer dwall beneath the ground.

BRANDY.

Wanwordy gowk! did I sae aften shine
Wi' gowden glister thro' the chrystal fine,
To thole your taunts, that seenil hae been seen
Awa frae _luggie, quegh_, or _truncher treein;_
Gif honour wad but lat, a _challenge_ shou'd
Twine ye o' Highland _tongue_ and Highland _blude;_
Wi' cairds like thee I scorn to file my thumb,
For gentle spirits gentle breeding doom.

WHISKY.

=Truly I think it right you get your alms,
Your high heart humbled amang common drams:
Braw days for you, whan fools, newfangle fain,
Like ither countries better than their ain;
For there ye never saw sic chancy days,
Sic balls, assemblies, operas, or plays:
Hame-o'er langsyne you hae been blyth to pack
Your a' upon a _sarkless_ soldier's back;
For you thir lads, as weel-lear'd trav'lers tell,
Had sell'd their _sarks_, gin _sarks_ they'd had to sell.

=But worth gets poortith an' black burning shame,
To draunt and rivel out a life at hame.
Alake the byword's owr weel kent throughout,
"Prophers at hame are held in nae repute;"
Sae fair'st wi' me, tho' I can het the skin,
And set the saul upo' a mirry pin,
Yet I am hameil, there's the sour mischance!
I'm na frae Turkey, Italy, or France;
For now our gentles gabbs are grown sae nice,
At thee they toot, an' never spear my price:
Witness - for thee they hight their tenants rent,
And fill their lands wi' poortith, discontent;
Gar them o'er seas for cheaper mailins hunt,
An' leave their ain as bare's the Carin-o-'mount.

BRANDY.

=Tho' lairds tak toothfu' o' my warming sap,
This dwines nor tenants gear, now cows their crap:
For love to you there's mony a tenant gaes
Bare-ars'd and bare-foot o'er the Highland braes:
For you nae mair the thrifty gudewife sees
Her lasses kirn, or birze the dainty cheese;
_Crummie_ nae mair for Jenny's hand will crune,
Wi' milkness dreeping frae her teats adown:
for you owr ear the ox his fate partakes,
And fa's a vitim to the bludy aix.

WHISKY.

=Wha is't that gars the greedy Bankers prieve
The _Maiden's tocher_, but the _Maiden's_ leave:
By you when spulzied o' her charming pose,
She tholes in turn the taunt o' cauldrife joes;
Wi' skelps like thei fock sit but seenil down
To _wether-gammon_ or _how-towdy_ brown;
Sair dung wi' dule, and fley'd for coming debt,
They gar their _mou'-bits_ wi' their _incomes_ met,
Content eneugh gis they hae wherewithal
Scrimply to tack their body and their saul.

BRANDY.

=Frae some poor poet, o'er as poor a pot,
Ye've lear'd to crack sae crouse, ye haveril Scot,
Or burgher politician, that embrues
His tongue in thee, and reads the claiking news;
But waes heart for you! that for ay maun dwell
In poet's garret, or in chairman's cell,
While I shall yet on bien-clad tables stand,
Bouden wi' a' the daintiths o' the land.

WHISKY.

=Troth I hae been 'ere now the poet's flame,
And heez'd his sangs to mony blythsome theme,
Wha was't gar'd ALLIE'S _chaunter_ chirm fu clear,
Life to the saul, and music to the ear:
Nae stream but kens, and can repeat the lay
To shepherds streekit on the simmer brae,
Wha to their _whistle_ wi' the lav'rock bang,
To wauken flocks the rural fields amang.

BRANDY.

=But here's the brouster-wife, and she can tell
Wha's win the day, and wha shou'd wear the bell;
hae done your din, an' let her judgment join
In final verdict 'twixt your pley and mine.

LANDLADY

=In days o' yore I cou'd my living prize,
Nor fash'd wi' dolefu' gauzers or excise;
But now-a-days we're blyth to lear the thrift
Our heads -boon _licence_ and _excise_ to life:
In laes o' BRANDY we can soon supply
By WHISKY tinctur'd wi' the _saffron's_ dye.

=Will you your breeding threep, ye _mongrel toun!_
Frae hame-bred liquor dy'd to colour brown?
So _flunky_ braw, whan drest in maister's clais,
Struts to Auld Reikie's cross on sunny days,
Till som auld comerades, ablins out o' place,
Near the vain upstart shaws his meagre face;
Bumbaz'd he loups frae sight, and jooks his ken,
Fley'd to be seen amang the tassel'd train.





TO THE PRINCIPAL AND PROFESSORS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREWS, ON THEIR SUPERBTREAT TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

ST. ANDREW'S town may look right gawsy,
Nae _Grass_ will grow upo' her cawsey,
Nor wa'-flow'r o' a yellow dye,
Glour dowy o'er her _Ruins_ high,
Sin _Sammy's_ head weel pang'd wi' lear
Has seen the _Alma Mater_ there:
Regents, my winsome billy boys!
'Bout him you've made an unco noise;
Nae doubt for him your bells wad
To find him upon _Eden's_ brink,
An' a things nicely set in order,
Wad keep him on the Fifan border;
I'se warrant now, frae France and Spain
Baith _Cooks_ an' _Scullions_ mony ane
Wad gar the pats an' kettles tingle
Around the college kitchen ingle,
To fleg frae a' your craigs the roup
Wi' reeking het an' creeshy soup;
And _snails_ and _puddocks_ mony hunder
Wad beeking lie the hearth-stane under
Wi' roast and boild, an' a kin kind,
To heat the body, cool the mind.

=But hear, my lads! gin I'd been
How I'd hae trimm'd the bill o' fare:
For ne'er sic surly wight as he
Had met wi' sic respect frae me.
Mind ye what _Sam_, the lying loun!
Has in his Dictionar laid down?
The aits in England are a feast,
To cow an' horse, an' sicken beast,
While in Scots ground this growth was common
To gust the gab o' _Man_ an' _Woman_.

=Tak tent, ye _Regents!_ then, an' hear
My list o' gudely hameil gear,
Sic as hae aften rax'd the wyme
O' blyther fallows mony time,
Mair hardy, souple, steeve, an' swank,
Tan ever stood on _Sammy's_ shank.

=_Imprimis_, then, a haggis fat,
Weel tottl'd in a seything pat,
Wi' _spice_ an' _ingans_ weel ca'd thro',
Had help'd to gust the stirrah's mow,
An' plac'd itsell in truncher clean
Before the gilpy's glowrin een.

=_Secundo_, then, a gude sheep's head,
Whase hide was singit, never flead,
And four black trotters clad wi' grisle,
Bedown his throat had learn'd to hirsle.
What think ye neist o' gude fat brose,
To clag his ribs? a dainty dose!
And white and bloody puddings routh,
To gar the Doctor skirl, O Drouth!
Whan he cou'd never houp to merit
A cordial glass o' reaming claret,
But thraw his nose, and brize and peh
O'er the contents o' sma' ale quegh;
Then let his wisdom girn an' snarl
O'er a weel-tostit girdle farl,
An' learn, that, maugre o' his wame,
Ill barins are ay best heard at hame.

=DRUMMOND_, lang syne, o' Hawthornden,

Thy wyliest an' best o' men,
Has gi'en you dishes ane or mae,
That wad hae gar'd his grinders play,
Not to _Roast Beef_, Auld England's life!
But to the auld _East Nook of Fife_,
Whare Craillian crafts cou'd weel hae gi'en
Scate-rumples to hae clear'd his een;
Than neist, whan _Sammy's_ heart was faintin,
He'd lang'd for scate to mak him wanton.

=Ah! willawins for Scotland now,
Whan she maun stap ilk birky's mow
Wi' eistacks, grown as 'tware in pet
In foreign land, or green-house het,
Whan cog o' brose an' cutty spoon
Is a' our cottar childer's boon,
Wha thro' the week, till Sunday's speal,
Toil for pease-clods an' gude lang hail.

=Devall then, Sirs, and never send
For daintiths to regale a friend,
Or, like a torch at baith ends burning,
Your house'll soon grow mirk and mourning!

=What's this I hear some cynic say?
Robin, ye loun! it's nae fair play;
Is there nae ither subject rife
To clap your thumb upo' but _Fife?_
Gie o'er, young man, you'll meet your corning,
Than caption war, or charge o' horning;
Some canker'd, surly, sour-mou'd carline
Bred near the abbey o' Dumfarline,
Your shoulders yet may gie a lounder,
An' be of verse the mal-confounder.

=Come on, ye blades! but 'ere ye tulzie,
Or hack our flesh wi' sword or gulzie,
Ne'er shaw your teeth, nor look like stink,
Nor o'er an empty bicker blink;
What weets the wizen an' the wyme
Will mend your prose, and heal myr hyme.





ELEGY ON JOHN HOGG, LATE PORTER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREWS.

DEATH, what's ado? the de'il belicket,
Or wi' your _stang_ you ne'er had pricket,
Or our _auld_ ALMA MATER tricket
==O' poor John Hogg,
And traild' him ben thro' your mark wicket
==As dead's a log.

Now ilka glaikit scholar loun
May dander wae wi' _duddy gown;_
_Kate Kennedy_ to dowy crune
==May mourn and lcink,
And steeples o' St. Andrew's town
==To yirs may sink.

Sin' _Pauly Tam_, wi' canker'd snout,
First held the students in about,
To wear their claes as black as soot,
==They ne'er had reason,
Till Death John's haffit gae a clout
==Sae out o' season.

Whan _regents_ met at common schools,
He taught auld _Tam_ to hale the dules,
And eident to row right the bowls,
==Like ony emmack;
He kept us a' within the rules
==Scrict academic.

Heh! wha will tell the students now
To meet the _Pauly_ cheek for chow,
Whan he, like _frightsome wirrikow_,
==Had wont to rail,
And set our stamacks in a low,
==Or we turn'd tail.

Ah, Johnny! after did I grumble
Frae cozy bed fu' ear' to tumble
Whan art and part I'd been in some ill,
==Troth I was swear;
His words they brodit like a wumil
==Frae ear to ear.

Whan I had been fu' laith to rise,
John than begude to moralize:
"The _tither nap_, the _sluggard_ cries,
=="And turns him road,
"Sae spake auld Solomon the wise,
=="Divine profound!"

Nae dominie, or wise mess John,
Was better lear'd in Solomon;
He cited proverbs one by one
==Ilk vice to tame;
He gar'd ilk sinner sigh an' groan,
==And fear hell's flame.

"I hae nae meikle skill, quo' he,
"In what you ca' philosophy;
"It tells that baith the earth an' sex
=="Rin round about;
"Either the Bible tells a lie,
=="Or ye're a' out.

"It's i' the _Psalms o'_ DAVID writ,
"That this wide warld ne'er shou'd flit,
"But on the waters coshly sit
=="Fu' steeve an' lasting:
"An' was na he a head o' wit
=="At sic contesting!"

On einings cauld wi' glee wed trudge
To heat our shins in Johnny's lodge;
The de'il ane thought his bum to budge
==Wi' siller on us:
To claw _het pints_ we'd never grudge
==O' _molationis_.

Say, ye _red gowns!_ that aften here
Hae toasted Cakes to _Katie's_ beer,
Gin 'ere this days hae had their peer,
==Sae blyth, sae daft!
You'll ne'er again in life's career
==Sit haaf sae saft.

Wi' haffit locks sae smooth and sleek,
John look'd like ony antient Greek;
he was a Naz-rene a' the week,
==And doughtna tell out
A bawbee Scots to srape his cheek
==Till Sunday feel out.

For John ay loo'd to turn the pence,
Thought poortith was a great offence:
"What reeks tho' ye ken _mood_ and _tense?_
=="A hungry _wyme_
"For _gowd_ wad wi' them baith dispense
=="At ony time.

"Ye ken what ails maun ay befal
"The chiel that will be prodigal;
"Whan wasted to the very spaul
=="He turns his tusk,
For want o' comfort to his saul
=="O' hungry husk."

Ye royit louns! just do as he'd do;
For mony braw green _shaw_ an' _meadow_
He's left to cheer his dowy widow,
==His winsome _Kate_,
That to him prov'd a canny she-dow,
==Baith ear' and late.





THE GHAISTS:  A KIRK_YARD ECLOGUE.

=_Did you not say in good_ ANN'S _day,_
==_And vow and did protest, Sir,_
=_That when_ Hanover _should come o'er_
==_We surely should be blest, Sir?_
======An auld Sang made new again.

WHARE the braid planes in dowy murmurs wave
Their antient taps out o'er the cauld-clad grave,
Whare _Geordie Girdwood_, mony a lang spun day,
Houkit for gentlest banes the humblest clay,
'Twa sheeted ghaists, sae grizly and sae wan.
'Mang lanely tombs their douff discourse began.

WATSON.

=Cauld blaws the nippin north wi' angry sough,
And showers his hailstanes frae the Castle Cleugh,
O'er the Grayfriars, whare, at mirkest hour,
Bogles and spectres wont to take their tout,
Harlin the pows and shanks to hidden cairns,
Amang the hamlocks wild, and sun-burnt fearns:
But nane the night, save you and I, hae come
Frae the dreer mansions o' the midnight tomb.
Now whan the dawning's near, whan cock maun craw,
And wi' his angry bougil gar's withdraw,
Ayont the Kirk we'll stap, aod their tak bield,
While the black hours our nightly freedom yield.

HERRIOT.

=I'm weel content; but binna cassen down,
Nor trow the cock will ca' ye hame o'er soon,
For tho' the eastern lift betaken's day,
Changing her rokely black for mantle grey,
Nae weirlike bird our knell of parting rings,
Nor sheds the caller moisture frae his wings,
_Nature_ has chang'd her course; the birds o' day
Dozen in silence ont he bending spray,
While olets round the craigs at nooon-tide flee,
And bludy-bawks sit singang on the tree.
Ah, _Caledon!_ the land I yence held dear,
Sair mane mak I for thy destruction near;
And they, _Edina!_ anes my dear abode,
Whan royal _Jamie_ sway's the sovereign rod,
In thae bleast days, weel did I think bestow'd
To blaw thy poortith by wi' heaps o' gowd;
To mak thee sonsy seem wi' mony a gift,
And gar thy stately turrets speel the lift:
In vain did Danish Jones, wi' gimcrack pains,
In Gothic sculpture fret the pliant stanes:
In vain did he affix my statue here,
Brawly to busk wi' flow'rs ilk coming year;
My tow'rs are sunk, my lands are barren now,
My fame, my honour, like my flow'rs, maun dow.

WATSON.

=Sure _Major Weir_, or some sic warlock wight,
Has flung beguilin' glamour o'er your sight;
Or else some kttle cantrip thrown, I ween,
Has bound in mirlygoes my ain twa ein,
If ever aught frae sense coud be believ'd
(And seenil hae my senses been deceiv'd),
This mament, o'er the tap o' _Adam's_ tomb,
Fu' easy can I see your chiefest dome:
Nae corbie fleein there, nor croupin craws,
Seem to forspeak the ruin o' thy haws,
But a' your tow'rs in wonted order stand,
Steeve as the rocks that hem our native land.

HERRIOT.

=Think na I vent my weel-a-day in vain,
kent ye the cause, ye sure wad join my mane.
Black be the day that e'er to England's ground
Scotland was eikit by the _Union's_ bond;
For mony a menzie o' destructive ills
The country now maun brook _mortmain bills_,
That voice our test'ments, and can freely gie
Sic will and scoup to the ordain'd trustee,
That he may tir out stateliest riggins bare
Nor acres, houses, woods, nor fishins spare,
Till he can lend the stoitering state a lift
Wi' gowd in gowpins as a grassun gift;
In lieu o' whilk, we maun be weel content
To tyne the captial for three _per cent_.
A doughty sum indeed, whan now-a-days
They raise provisions as the stents they raise,
Yoke hard the poor, and let the rich chiels be,
Pamper'd at ease by ither's industry.

=Hale interest for my fund can scantly now
Cleed a' my callants backs, and stap their mou':
How maun their weyms wi' sairest hunger slack,
Their duds in targets staff upo' their back,
Whan they are doom'd to keep a lasting Lent,
Starving for England's weel at thee _per cent?_

WATSON.

=AULD REIKIE than may bless the gowden times,
Whan honesty and poortith baith are crimes:
She little kend, whan you and I endow'd
Our hospitals for back-gaun burghers gude,
That e'er our siller or our lands shou'd bring
A gude bien living to a back-gaun king:
Wha, thanks to Ministry! is grown sae wise,
He downa chew the bitter cud o' vice;
For gin, frae Castlehill to Netherbow,
Wad honest houses bawdy-houses grow,
The Crown wad never spear the price o' sin,
Nor hinder younkers to the de'il to rin!
But gif some mortal green for pious fame,
And leave the poor man's pray'r to sain his name,
His geer maun a' be scatter'd by the claws
O' ruthless, ravenous, and harpy laws.
Yet, shou'd I think, altho' the bill tak place,
The Council winna lack sae meikle grace,
As lat our heritage at wantworth gang,
Or the succeeding generations wrang
O' braw bien maintenance and wealth o' lear,
Whilk else had drappit to their children's skair;
For mony a deep, and mony a rare engyne
Hae sprung frae Herriot's Wark, and sprung frae mine.

HERRIOT.

=I find, my friend, that ye but little ken,
There's ei'now on the earth a set o' men,
Wha', if they get their private pouches lin'd,
Gie nae a winnelstrae for a' mankind;
They'll sell their country, flae their conscience bare,
To gar the weigh-bauk turn a single hair.
The Government need only bait the line
Wi' the prevailing flee, the gowden coin;
Than our executors, and wise trustees,
Will sell them fishes in forbidden seas,
Upo' their dwining country girn in sport,
Laugh i' their sleeve, and get a place at court.

WATSON.

='Ere that day come, I'll mang our spirits pick
Some ghaist that trokes and conjures wi' _Auld Nick_,
To gar the wid wi' rouglier rumbles blaw,
And weightier thuds than ever mortal saw:
Fir-flaught and hail, wi' tenfald fury's fires,
Shall lay yerd-laigh Edina's airy spires:
Tweed shall rin rowtin' down his banks out o'er
Till Scotland's out o' reach o' England's pow'r
Upo' the briny Borean jaws to float,
And mourn in dowy saughs her dowy lot.

HERRIOT.

=Yonder's the tomb o' wise _Mackenzie_ fam'd.
Whase laws rebellious bigotry reclaim'd,
Freed the hale land o' covenanting fools,
Wha erst hae fash'd us wi' unnumber'd dools;
Till night we'll take the swaird aboon our pows,
And than, whan she her ebon chariot rows,
We'll travel to the vaut wi' stealing slap,
And wauk _Mackenzie_ frae his quiet nap;
Tell him our ails, that he, wi' wonted skill,
May fleg the schemers o' the _mortmain bill_.





TO MY AULD BREEKS.

=Now gae your wa's - Tho' anes as gude
As ever happit _flesh_ and _blude_,
Yet part we maun - The case sae hard is,
Amang the Writers and the Bardies,
That lang they'll brook the _auld_ I trow,
Or neighbours bry, "Weel brook the _new_."
Still making tight wi' tither eik,
To bang the birr o' winter's anger,
And had the hurdies out o' langer.

=Sicklike some weary wight will fill
His kyte wi' _drogs_ frae doctor's _bill_,
Thinking to tack the tither year
To life, and look baith hail an' fier,
Till at the lang-run Death dirks in,
To birze his saul-run Death dirks in,
To birze his saul ayont his skin.

=You needna wag your _duds_ o' clouts,
Nor fa' into your dorty pouts,
To think that erst you've hain'd my _tail_
Frae _wind_ and _weet_, frae _snaw_ and _hail_,
And for reward, whan bauld and hummil,
Frae garret high to dree a tunble.
For you I car'd, as lang's ye dow'd
Be lin' wi' siller or wi' gowd:
Now to befriend, it wad be folly,
Your raggit hide and pouches holey;
For wha but kens a poet's placks
Get mony weary flaws an' cracks,
And canna thole to hae them tint,
As he sae seenil sees the mint?
Yet round the warld keek and see,
That ither fare as illa sthee;
For weel we loe the chiel we think
Can get us tick, or gie us drink,
Till o' his purse we've seen the bottom,
Than we despise, and hae forgot him.

=Yet gratefu' hearts, to make amends,
Will ay be sorry for their friends,
And I for thee - As mony a time,
Wi' you I've speel'd the braes o' rhime,
Whare for the time the Muse ne'er cares
For siller, or sic guilefu' wares,
Wi' whilk we drumly grow, and erabbit,
Dour, capernoited, thrawin gabbit,
And brither, sister, friend and fae,
Without remeid o' kindred, slae.

=You've seen me round the bickers reel
Wi' heart as hale as temper'd steel,
And face sae apen, free and blyth,
Nor thought that sorrow there cou'd kyth:
But the beist mament this was lost,
Like gowan in December's frost.

=Cou'd _Prick-the-louse_ but be sae handy
As mak the breeks and claise to stand ay,
Thro' thick and thin wi' you I'd dash on,
Nor mind the folly o' the fashion:
But, hegh! the times' _vicissitudo_
Gars ither breeks decay as you do.
The Macaronies, braw and windy,
Maun fail - _sic transit gloria mundi!_

=Now speed you on to some madam's chaumer,
That butt an' ben rings dule an' clamor,
Ask her, in kindness, if she seeks
In hidling ways _to wear the breeks?_
Safe you may dwall, tho' mould and motty,
Beneath the veil o' under coatie,
For this mair fauts nor your's can screen
Frae lover's quickest sense, his ein.

=Or gif some bard, in lucky times,
Shou'd profit meikle by his rhimes,
And pace awa', wi' smirky face,
In siller or in gowden lace,
Glowr in his face, like spectre gaunt,
Remind him o' his former want,
To cow his daffin and his pleasure,
And gar him live within the measure.

=So _Philip_, it is said, who wou'd ring
O'er _Macedon_ a just and gude king,
Fearing that power might plume his feather,
And bid him stretch beyond his tether,
Ilk morning to his lug wad ca'
A tiny servant o' his ha',
To tell him to improve his span,
For _Philip_ was, like him, a _Man_.





AULD REIKIE.

AULD REIKIE, wale o' ilka town
That _Scotland_ kens beneath the moon!
Whare couthy chiels at e'ening meet
Their bizzing _craigs_ and _mous_ to weel;
And blythly gar auld care gae by
Wi' blinkit and wi' bleering eye:
O'er lang frae thee the Muse has been
Sae frisky on the _Simmer's_ green,
Whan flowers and gowans wont to glent
In bonny blinks upo' the bent,
But now the _leaves_ o' yellow dye,
Peel'd frae the _branches_, quickly fly;
And now frae mouther bush nor briar
The spreckl'd _mavis_ greets your ear;
Nor bonny blackbird _skims_ and _roves_
Ro seek his love in yonder groves.

=Then _Reikie_, welcome!  Thou canst charm
Unfleggit by the year's alarm;
Not Boreas, that sae snelly blows,
Dare here pap in his angry nose:
Thanks to our _dads_, whase biggin stands
A shelter to surrounding lands.

=Now morn, wi' bonny purple smiles,
Kisses the air-cock o' St. Giles;
Rakin their ein, the servant lasses
Early begin their lies and clashes;
Ilk tells her friend o' saddest distress,
That still she brooks frae scouling mistress;
And wi' her joe in turnpike stair
She'd rather snuff the stinking air,
As be subjected to her tongue,
When justly censur'd i' thh wrong.

=On stair wi' _tub_, or _pat_ in hand,
The barefoot _housemaids_ loe to stand,
That antrin fock may ken how _snell_
Auld Reikie will at morning _smell:_
Then, with an _inundation big_ as
The _burn_ that 'neath the _Nor' Loch brig_ is,
They kindly shower Edina's roses,
To _quicken_ and _regale_ our _noses_.
Now some for this, wi' satire leesh,
Hae gi'en auld Edinbrough a creesh:
But without souring nocht is sweet;
The morning smells that hail our street,
Prepare and gently lead the way
To simmer canty, braw and gay:
Edina's sons mair eithly share
Her spices and her dainties rare,
Than he that's never ye been call'd
Aff frae his plaidie or his fauld.

=Now stair-head critics, senseless fools,
_Censure_ their _aim_, and _pride_ their rules,
In _Luckenbooths_ wi' glouring eye,
Their neighbours sma'est fauts descry,
If ony loun should dander there,
O' aukward gate and, foreign air,
They trace his teps, till they can tell
His _pedigree_ as weel's himsell.

=Whan Phoebus blinks wi' warmer ray,
And schools at noon-day get the play,
Then bus'ness, weighty bus'ness, comes,
The trader glours; he doubts, he hums;
The lawyers eke to cross repair,
Their wigs to shaw, and toss an air;
While busy agent closely plies,
And a' his kittle cases tries.

=Now night, that's cunzied chief for fun,
Is wi' her usual rites begun;
Thro' ilks gate the torches blaze,
And globes send out their blinkin rays.
The usefu' cadie plies in street,
To bide the profits o' his feet;
For by thir lads Auld Rreikie's fock
Ken but a _sample_ o' the stock
O' thieves, that nightly wad oppress,
And make baith goods and gear the less.
Near him the lazy chairman stands,
And wats na how to turn his hands;
Till some daft birky, ranting fu',
Has matters somewhare else to do;
The chairman willing gi'es his light
To deeds o' darkness and o' night.

=It's never sax-pence for a lift
That gars thir lads wi' fu'ness rift;
For they wi' better gear are paid,
And _whores_ and _culls_ support their trade.

=Near some lamp-post, wi' dowy face,
Wi' heavy ein, and sour grimace,
Stands she that beauty lang had kend,
Whoredom her trade, and vice her end.
But see whare now she wins her bread
Ay that which nature ne'er decreed;
And vicious ditties sings to please
Fell Dissipation's votaries.
Whane'er we reputation lose,
Fair chastity's transparent gloss!
Redemption seenil kens the name,
But a's black misery and shame.

=Frae joyous tavern, reeling drunk,
Wi' fiery phizz, and ein half sunk,
Behad the bruiser, fae to a'
That in the reek o' gardies fa'.
Close by his side, a feckless race
O' macaronies shaw their face,
And think they're free frae skaith or harm,
While pith befriends their leader's arm:
Yet fearfu' aften o' their maught,
They quit the glory o' the faught
To this same warrior wha led
Thae heroes to bright honour's bed;
And aft the hack o' honour shines
In bruiser's face wi' broken lines:
O' them saf tales he tells anon,
Whan ramble and whan fighting's done;
And, like Hectorian, ne'er impairs
The brag and glory o' his sairs.

=Whan feet in dirty gutters plash,
And fock to wale their fitstaps fash;
At night the macaroni drunk,
In pools and gutters aftimes sunk:
Hegh! what a fright he now appears,
Whan he his corpse dejected rears!
Look at that head, and think if there
The pomet slaister'd up his hair!
The cheeks observer, where now cou'd shine
The scansing glories o' carmine!
Ah, legs! in vain the silk-worm there
Display'd to view her eident care;
For stink, instead of perfumes, grow,
And clarty odours fragrant flow.

=Now some to porter, some to punch,
Some to their wife, and some thri wench,
Retire, while noisy ten-hours' drum
Gars a' your trades gae dand'ring home.
Now mony a club, jocose and free,
Gie a' to merriment and glee:
Wi' sang and glass, they fley the pow'r
O' care that wad harrass the hour:
For wine and Bacchus still bear down
Our thrawart fortune's wildest frown:
It maks you stark, and bauld, and brave,
E'ev whan descending to the grave.

=Now some, in _Pandemonium's_ shade,
Resume the gormandizing trade;
Whare eager _looks_, and glancing _ein_,
Forespeak a _heart_ and _stamack_ keen.
Gang on , my lads; it's lang sin syne
We kent auld _Epicurus'_ line;
Save you the board wad cease to rise,
Bedight wi' _daintiths_ to the skies;
And salamanders cease to swill
The _comforts_ o' a _burning_ gill.

=But chief, O _Cape!_ we crave thy aid,
To get our cares and poortith laid:
Sincerity, and genius true,
O' knits have ever been the due:
Mirth, music, porter deepest dy'd,
Are never here to worth deny'd;
And health o' happiness the queen,
Blinks bonny, wi' her smile serene.

=Tho' joy maist part Auld Reikie owns,
Eftsoons she kens sad sorrow's frowns;
What groupe is yon sae dismal, grim,
Wi' horrid aspect, cleeding dim?
Says Death, they're mine, a dowy crew,
To me they'll quickly pay their last adieu.

=How come mankind, whan lacking woe;
In _Saulie's_ face their hearts to show,
As if they were a clock to tell
That grief in them had rung her bell?
Then, what is man? why a' this phraze?
Life's spunk decay'd nae mair can blaze.
Let sober grief alane declare
Our fond anxiety and care:
Nor let the undertakers be
The only waefu' friends we see.

=Come on, my Muse, and then rehearse
The gloomiest theme in a' your verse:
In mornings when ane keeks about,
Fu' blyth and free frae ail, nae doubt
He lippens na to be misled
Amang the regions o' the dead:
But straight a painted corp he sees,
Lang streekit 'neath its canopies.
Soon, soon will this his mirth controul,
And send d----n to his soul:
Or whan the dead-dale, (awfu' shape;)
Makes frighted mankind girn and gape,
reflecion than his reason sours,
For the neist dead-dale may be ours.
When Sybil led the Trojan down
To haggard _Pluto's_ dreary town,
Shapes war not thae, I freely ween,
Cou'd never meet the sogers' ein.

=If kail sae green, or herbs, delight,
Edina's treet sttracts the sight;
Not Covent-garden, clad sae braw,
Mair fouth o' herbs can eithly shaw:
For mony a yeard is here sair sought,
That kail and cabbage may be bought,
And healthfu' sallad to regale,
Whan pamper'd wi' a heavy meal.
Glour up the street at simmer morn,
The birk sae green, and sweet-briar thorn,
Wi' spraingit flow'rs that scent the gale,
Ca' far awa the morning smell,
Wi' which our ladies' flow'r-pat's fill'd,
And every noxious vapour kill'd,
O nature! canty, blyth and free,
Whare is there keeking-glass like thee?
Is there on earth that can compare
Wi' Mary's shape, and Mary's air,
Save the empurpl'd speck that grows
In the saft fauls o' yonder rose?
How bonny seems the virgin breast,
Whan by the lilies here carest,
And leaves the mind in doubt to tell
Which maist in sweets and hue excell?

=_Gillespie's_ snuff should prime the nose
O' her that to the market goes,
If she wad like to shun the smells
That buoy up frae market cells;
Whare wames o' painches sav'ry scent
To nostrils gi'e great discontent.
Now, wha in _Albion_ could expect
O' cleanliness sic great neglect?
Nae Hottentot that daily lairs
'Mang tripe, or ither clarty wares,
hath ever yet conceiv't, or seen,
Beyond the line, sic scenes unclean.

=On Sunday, here, an alter'd scene
O' men and manners, meet's our ein:
Ane wad maist trow some people chose
To change their faces wi' their clo'es,
And fain wad gar ilk neighbour think
They thirst for goodness as for drink;
But there's an unco dearth o' grace,
That has nae mansion but the face,
And bever can obtain a part
In benmost corner o' the heart.
Why shou'd religion mak us sad,
If good frae Virtue's to be had?
Na : rather gleefu' turn your face;
Forsake hypocrisy, grimace;
And never hae it understood
You fleg mankind frae being good.

=In afternoon, a' brawly buskit,
The joes and lasses loe to frisk it:
Some tak a great delight to place
The modest _bod-grace_ o'er the face;
Tho' you may see, if so inclin'd,
The turning o' the leg behind.
Now Comely-garden, and the Park,
Refresh them, after forenoon's wark;
Newhaven, Leith, or Canon-mills,
Supply them in their Sunday's gills:
Whare writers aften spend their pence:
To stock their heads wi' drink an' sense.

=While dand'ring cits delight to stray
To Castlehill, or public way,
Whare they nae other purpose mean,
Than that foul cause o' being seen;
Let me to _Arthur's Seat_ pursue,
Whare bonny pastures meet the view;
And mony a wild-lorn scene accrues,
Befitting _Willie Shakespeare's_ muse:
If fancy there wad join the thrang,
The desart rocks and hills amang,
To echoes we should lilt and play,
And gie to _Mirth_ the live-lang day.
Or shou'd some canker'd biting show'r
The day and a' her sweets deflow'r,
To Holyrood-house let me stray,
And gie to musing a' the day;
Lamenting what auld _Scotland_ knew
Bien days for ever frae her view:
O HAMILTON, for shame! the Muse
Wad pay to thee her couthy vows,
Gin ye wad tent the humble strain,
And gie's our dignity again:
For O, waes me! the Thistle springs
In _domicile_ o' antient kings,
Without a patriot to regret
Our _palace_ and our antient _state_.

=Blest place! whare debtors daily run,
To rid themsels frae jail and dun;
Here, tho' sequester'd frae the din
That rings _Auld Reikie's_ wa's within,
Yet they may tread the sunny braes,
And brook Apollo's cheary rays;
Glour frae _St. Anthon's_ grassy height,
O'er vales in simmer claise bedight,
Nor ever hing their head, I ween,
Wi' jealous fear o' being seen.
May I, whanever _duns_ come night,
And shake my garret wi' their cry,
Scour here wi' haste, protection get,
To screen mysell frae them and debt;
To breathe the bliss o' open sky,
And _Simon Fraser's_ bolts defy.

=Now gin a loun shou'd hae his claise
In thread-bare autumn o' their days,
St. _Mary_, broker's guardian saint,
Will satisfy ilk ail and want;
For mony a hungry writer there
Drives down at night, wi' cleeding bare,
And quickly rises to the view
A gentleman perfyte and new.
Ye rich fock, look na' wi' disdain
Upo' this antient brokage lane!
For naked poets are suplpy'd
Wi' what you to their wants deny'd.

=Peace to thy shade, thou wale o' men,
DRUMMOND! relief to poortith's pain:
To thee the greatest bliss we owe,
And tribute's tear shall grateful flow:
The sick are cur'd, the hungry fed,
And dreams o' comfort 'tend their bed.
As lang as _Forth_ weets _Lothian's_ shore,
As lang's on _Fife_ her billows roar,
Sae lang shall ilk whae country's dear,
To thy rememblance gie a tear.
By thee _Auld Reikie_ thrave and grew
Delightfu' to her childer's view:
Na mair shall _Glasgow_ striplins threep
Their city's beauty and its shape,
While our new vity spreads around
Her bonny wings on fairy ground.

=But Provosts now that ne'er afford
The smaest dignity to _lord_,
Ne'er care tho' every scheme gae wild
That DRUMMOND'S sacred hand has cull'd:
The spacious _Brig_ neglected lies,
Tho' plagu'd wi' pamphlets, dunn'd wi' cries;
They heed not tho' destruction come
To gulp us in her gaunting womb.
O shame! that safety canna claim
Protection from a Provost's name,
But hidden danger lies behind
To torture and to fleg the mind;
I may as weel bid _Arthur's Seat_
To _Berwick-Law_ mak gleg retreat,
A think that either will or art
Shall get the gate to win their heart;
For Politics are a' their mark,
_Bribes latent, and corruption dark:_
If they can eithly turnt he pence,
Wi' city's good they will dispense;
Nor care tho' a' her sons were lair'd
Ten fathom i' the auld kirk-yard.

=To sing yet meikle does remain,
Undecent for a modest strain;
And sin the poet's daily bread is
The favour o' teh Muse or ladies,
He downa like to gie offence
To delicacy's bonny sense;
Therefore the stews remain unsung,
And bawds in silence drap their tongue.

=REIKIE, farewell!  I ne'er cou'd part
Wi' thee but wi' a dowy heart;
Aft frae the Fifan coast I've seen
Thee tow'ring on they summit green.
So glowr the saints when first is given
A fav'rite keek o' glore and heaven;
On earth nae mair they bend their ein,
But quick assume angelic mein;
So I on _Fife_ wad glowr no more,
But gallop'd to EDINA'S shore.





HAME CONTENT.  A SATIRE.

TO AL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN.

SOME fock, like _bees_, fu' glegly rin,
To bikes bang'd fu' o' strife an' din,
And thieve and huddle crumb by crumb,
Till they have scrapit the dautit _Plumb_,
Than craw fell crously o' their wark,
Tell o'e their turners _mark_ by _mark_,
Yet dare na think to lowse the pose,
To aid their beighbours ails and woes.

=Gif goud can fetter thus the heart,
And gar us act sae base a part,
Shall _Man_, a niggard, near-gawn eld!
Rin to the tether's end for pelf;
Learn ilka cunzied scoundrel's trick,
Whan a' deone sell his saul to _Nick:_
I trow they've coft the purchase dear,
That gang sic lengths for wardly gear.

=Now whan the _Dog-day_ heats begin
To birsle and to peel the skin,
May I lie streekit at my ease,
Beneath the caller shady trees,
(Far frae the din o' Borrowstown,)
Whare water plays the haughs bedown;
To jouk the simmer's rigour there,
And breathe awhile the caller air;
'Mang herds, an' honest cottar fock,
That till the farm an' feed the flock;
Carelss o' mair, wha never fash
To lade their _kist_ wi' useless _cash_,
But thank the _Gods_ for what they've sent,
O' health eneugh, and blyth content,
An' _pith_, that helps them to stravaig,
owr ilka cleugh an' ilka craig;
Unkend to a' the weary granes
That aft arise frae gentler banes
On easy chair that pamper'd lie,
Wi' banefu' viands gustit high,
And turn an' fald their weary clay,
To rax an' gaunt the live-lang day.

=Ye sages tell! was man e'er made
To dree this hatefu' sluggard trade?
Steekit frae Nature's beauties a'
That daily on his presence ca';
At hame to girn, and whinge, and pine
For fav'rite dishes, fav'rite wine:
Come, then, shak aff thir sluggish ties,
And wi' the bird o' dawning rise!
On ilka bank the clouds hae spread
Wi' blobs o' dew a pearly bed;
Frae faulds nae mair the owsen rout,
But to the fatt'ning clever lout,
Whare they may feed at heart's content,
Unyokit frae their winter's stent.

Unyoke then, man, an' binna swear
To ding a hole in ill-hain'd gear!
O think that _eild_, wi' wyly fit,
Is wearing nearer bit by bit!
Gin yence he claws you wi' his paw,
What's siller for?  Fiend hae't awa;
But _gowden_ playfair, that may please
The second _sharger_ till he dies.

=Some daft chiel reads, and taks advice;
The chaise is yokit in a trice;
Awa drivers he like huntit de;il,
And scarce he like huntit de'il,
And scarce tholes _time_ to cool his wheel,
Till he's Lord ken's how far awa',
At Italy, or well o' Spa,
Or to Montpelier's safter air;
For far aff _fowls_ hae _feathers_ fair.

=There rest him weel; for eith can we
Spare mony glakit gouks like he;
They'll tell whare _Tiber's_ waters rise;
What _sea_ receives the drumly prize,
That never wi' their feet hae met
The _marches_ o' their ain estate.

=The _Arno_ and the _Tiber_ lang
Hae run fell clear in Roman sang;
But save the reverence o' schools,
They're baith but lifeless, dowy pools.
Dought they compare wi; bonny Tweed,
As clear as ony lammer-head?
or are there shores mair sweet and gay
Than Fortha's haughs or banks o' Tay?
Tho' there the herds can k=jink the show'rs
'Mang thriving vines an' mytle bow'rs,
And blaw the reed to kittle strains,
While echo's tongue commends their pains.
Like ours, they canna warm the heart
Wi' simple, saft bewitching art.
On Leader haughs an' Yarrow brease,
_Arcadian_ herds wad tyne their lays,
To hear the mair melodious sounds
That live on our _poetic_ grounds.

=Come _Fancy!_ come, and let us tread
The simmer's flow'ry velvet bed,
And a' your _springs_ delightfu' lowse
On _Tweeda's_ bank or _Cowdenknows_,
That ta'en wi' thy enchanting sang,
Our Scottish lads may round ye thrang,
Sae pleas'd they'll never fash again
To court you on Italian plain;
Soon will they guess you only wear
The simple garb o' _Nature_ here;
Mair comely far an' fair to sight
Whan in her easy cleething dight,
Than in disguise ye was before
On Tiber's, or on Arno's shore.

=O _Bangour!_ now the hills and dales
Nae mair gie back thy tender tales!
The birks on Yarrow now deplore
Thy mournfu' muse has left the shore:
Near what bright burn or crystal spring
Did you your winsome whistle hing?
The Muse shall there, wi' _watry_ eie,
Gie the dunk swaird a tear for thee;
And Yarrow's genius, dowy dame!
Shall there forget her blude-stain'd stream,
On thy sad grave to seek repose,
Who mourn'd her fate, condol'd her woes.





EPISTLE TO MR. ROBERT FERGUSSON.

IS Allan risen frae the dead,
Wha aft has tun'd the aiten reed,
And by the Muses was decreed
==To grace the thistle?
Na; Fergusson's come in his stead
==To blaw the whistle.

In troth, my callant, I'm sae fain
To read your sonsy, santy strain,
Your sic easy stile and plain,
==And words sae bonny,
Nae southern loun dare you disdain,
==Or cry, _Fy on ye!_

Wae'er has at _Auld Reikie_ been,
And king's birth-day's exploits has seen
Maun own that ye hae gi'en a keen
==And true description;
Nor say ye've at Parnassus been
==To form a fiction.

Hale be your heart, ye canty chield!
May ye ne'er want a gude warm bield,
And sic good cakes as Scotland yield,
==And ilka dainty
That grows or feeds upo' her field,
==And whisky plenty.

But ye, perhaps, thirst mair for fame,
Than a' the gude things I can name,
And then you will be sair to blame
==My gude intention:
For that ye needna gae frae hame,
==Ye've sic pretension.

Sae saft and sweet your verses jingle,
An' your auld words sae meetly mingle,
'Till gar baith married fock an' single
==To roose your lays;
Whan we forgether round the ingle,
==We'll chant your praise.

Whan I again _Auld Reikie_ see,
An' can forgether, lad, wi' thee,
Then we wi' meikle mirth an' glle
==Shall tak a gill,
And o' your _caller oysters_ we
==Shall eat our fill.

If sic a thing shou'd you betide,
To Berwick town to tak a ride,
Ise tak ye up Tweed's bonny side
==Before ye settle,
And shaw you there the fisher's pride,
==A Sa'mon kettle.

There lads an' lasses do conveen
To feast an' dance upo' the green,
An' there sic brav'ry may be seen
==As will confound ye,
An' gar ye glowr out baithyour een,
==At a' around ye.

To see sae mony bosoms bare,
An' sic huge puddins i' their hair,
An' some o' them wi naithing mair
==Upo' their tete;
Yea, some wi' mutches that might scare
==Craws frae their meat.

I ne'er appear'd before in print,
But for your sake wou'd would fain be in't,
E'ev that I might my wishes hint
==That you'd write mair;
For sure your head-piece is a mint
=Whare wit's nae rare.

Sonse fa' me, gif I hadna lure
I cou'd command ilk Muse as sure,
Than hae a chariot at the door
==To wait upo' me;
Tho', poet-like, I'm but a poor
==Mid-Louthian Johnnie.

_Berwick, Aug_. 31, 1773.====J.S.





ANSWER TO MR. J. S'S EPISTLE.

I TROW, my mettl'd Louthian lathie!
_Auld farran birky_ I maun ca' thee;
For whan in gude black print I saw thee
==Wi souple gab,
I skirl'd fu' loud, "Oh wae befa' thee!
=="But thou'rt a dab."

Awa'm ye wylie fleetchin _fallow!_
The rose shall grow like gowan yallow,
Befoe I turn sae toom an' shallow;
==And viod of fusion,
As a' your butter'd words to swallow
==In vain delusion.

Ye make my Muse a dautit pet;
But gin she cou'd like a _Allan's_ met,
Or _couthy cracks_ and _hamely_ get
==Upo' her _carritch_,
Eithly wad I be in your debt
==A pint o' parritch.

At times whan she may lowse her pack,
I'll grant that she can find a knack
To ar auld-warld wordies clack
==In hamespun rhyme,
While ilk ane, at his _billie's_ back,
==Keeps gude _scots_ time.

But she maun e'en be glad to jook,
An' play _teet-bo_ frae nook to nook,
Or blush as gin she had the yook
==Upo' her skin,
Whan _Ramsay_ or whan _Pennycuik_
==Their lilts begin.

At mornin ear', or late at e'en,
Gin ye sud hap to come and see ane,
Nor niggard _wife_, nor greetin wee-ane,
==Within my cloyster,
Can challenge you or me frae priein
==A caller oyster.

Heh, lad! it wad be news indeed,
Ware I to ride to bonny _Tweed_,
Wha ne'er laid _gamon_ owre a steed
==Beyont _Losterrick;_
And auld shanks-naig wad tire, I dread,
==To pace to _Berwick._

You crack weel o' your lasses there,
Their glanein een, and bisket bare;
But, thof this town be _smeekit_ sair,
==I'll wad a _forden_,
Than ours there's nane mair fat an' fair,
==Cravin your pardon.

Gin _heaven_ shou'd gie the _earth_ a drink,
And afterhend a sunny blink,
GIn ye ware here, I'm sure you'd think
==It worth your notice,
To see them _dubbs_ and gutters jink
==Wi' kiltit coaties.