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Quoth I, “With a' my heart, I'll do't;
I'll get my Sunday's sark on, An' meet you on the holy spot;
Faith we'se hae fine remarkin!'
An' soon I made me ready;
In droves that day.
Here farmers gash, in ridin graith,
Gaed hoddin by their cotters;
Are springin o'er the gutters.
In silks an' scarlets glitter;
Fu' crump that day.
When by the plate we set our nose,
Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence,
An' we maun draw our tippence.
On ev'ry side they're gathrin,
Right loud that day.
Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs,
An' screen our countra Gentry,
Are. blinkin at the entry.
Wi’ heaving breast and bare neck, An' there a batch of wabster lads, Blackguarding frae K
-ck, For fun this day.
Here some are thinkin on their sins,
An' some upo' their claes ;
Anither sighs an' prays:
Wi’ screw'd up grace-proud faces ;
To chairs that day.
O happy is that man an' blest!
Nae wonder that it pride him! Whase ain dear lass, that he likes best,
Comes clinkin down beside him ! Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back,
He sweetly does compose him ; Which, by degrees, slips round her neck, An's loof upon her bosom,
Unken'd that day.
Now a’ the congregation o'er
Is silent expectation;
Wi’ tidings o' d-mn-t-n.
Mang sons o' G- present him,
Wi' fright that day.
Hear how he clears the points o' faith
Wi' rattlin an’ thumpin!
He's stampin an' he's jumpin !
His eldritch squeel and gestures, O how they fire the heart devout, Like cantharidian plasters,
On sic a day!
But, hark! the tent has chang’d its voice ;
There's peace an' rest nae langer:
opens out his cauld harangues,
A lift that day.
What signifies his barren shine,
O’ moral pow’rs and reason?
Are a' clean out o' season.
Or some auld pagan Heathen, The moral man he does define, But ne'er a word o' faith in
That's right that day.
In guid time comes an antidote
Against sic poison'd nostrum; ',
Ascends the holy rostrum :-
An' meek an' mim has view'd it, ? While Common-Sense has ta'en the road, An'aff, an' up the Cowgate,
Fast, fast, that day.
Wee ******, niest, the Guard relieves,
An' Orthodoxy raibles,
An' thinks it auld wives' fables: !
So, cannily he hums them;
At times that day.
Now butt an' ben, the Change-house fills,
Wi' yill-caup Commentators : Here's crying out for bakes and gills,
An' there the pint-stowp clatters ; While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang,
Wi' Logic, an' wi' Scripture, They raise a din, that, in the end, Is like to breed a rupture
O'wrath that day.
Leeze me on Drink! it gies us mair
Than either School or College: It kindles wit, it waukens lair,
It pangs us fou o' knowledge.
Or ony stronger potion,
By night or day.
The lads an' lasses, blythely bent
To mind baith saul an' body, Sit round the table, weel content,
An' steer about the toddy. On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk,
They're making observations; While some are cozie i’ the neuk, An' formin assignations
To meet some day.