Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, E'en cowe the caddie; An' send him to his dicing box An' sportin lady. Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks, Could he some commutation broach, Nor erudition, Yon mixtie-maxtie queer hotch-potch, The Coalition. Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue; An' if she promise auld or young To tak their part, Tho' by the neck she should be strung, She'll no desert. An' now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty, An' kick your place, Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty, Before his face. God bless your Honors a' your days, That haunt St. Jamie's! Your humble Poet sings an' prays While Rab his name is. POSTSCRIPT. LET half-starv'd slaves in warmer skies But blythe and frisky, She eyes her free-born, martial boys, Tak aff their Whisky. What though their Phoebus kinder warms, While fragrance blooms and beauty charms! When wretches range, in famish'd swarms, The scented groves, Or hounded forth, dishonour arms In hungry droves. Their gun's a burden on their shouther; They downa bide the stink o' powther; Their bauldest thought's a hank’ring swither To stan' or rin, Till skelp-a shot-they're aff, a' throwther, But bring a Scotsman frae his hill, An' there's the foe, Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him; His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him Sages their solemn een may steek, An' physically causes seek, In clime and season; But tell me Whisky's name in Greek, Scotland, my auld, respected Mither! 1 Sir Adam Furguson. E. 2 The present Duke of Montrose. E. 3 A worthy old Hostess of the Author's in Mauchline, where he sometimes studies Politics over a glass of gude auld Scotch Drink. THE HOLY FAIR. Holy Fair is a common phrase in the West of Scotland for a sacramental occasion. A robe of seeming truth and trust, And secret hung, with poison'd crust, A mask that like the gorget show'd, Hypocrisy a-la-mode. I. UPON a simmer Sunday morn, The rising sun owre Galston muirs, Fu' sweet that day. II. As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad, But ane wi' lyart lining; The third, that gaed a-wee a-back, Was in the fashion shining, Fu' gay that day. III. The twa appear'd like sisters twin, The third cam up, hap-step-an'-lowp, As light as ony lambie, An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, As soon as e'er she saw me, Fu' kind that day. IV. Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, 'Sweet lass, Quo' she, an' laughin as she spak, Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck Of a' the ten commands A screed some day. V. 'My name is Fun-your cronie dear, The nearest friend ye hae; An' this is Superstition here, I'm gaun to ********* Holy Fair, To spend an hour in daffin: Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair, We will get famous laughin At them this day.' |