Lapas attēli


For sense they little owe to frugal Heav'n.-
To please the Mob they hide the little gives.


KILMARNOCK Wabsters fidge an' claw

An' pour your creeshie nations;
An' ye wha leather rax an' draw,

Oa' denominations;
Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ane an'a',

An' there tak up your stations;
Then aff to B-gb—s in a raw,
An' pour divine libations

For joy this day.


Curst Common-sense, that imp o'b-ll,

Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder';
But 0******* aft made her yell,

An' R ***** sair misca'd her;
This day M***

* takes the flail,
An' he's the boy will blaud her!
He'll clap a shangan on her tail,
An' set the bairns to daub her

Wi’ dirt this day.

1 Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late Reverend and worthy Mr. L. to the Laigh Kirk.

Mak haste an' turn king David owre,

An' lilt wi' holy clangor ;
O'double verse come gie us four,

An' skirl up the Bangor:
This day the kirk kicks up a stoure,

Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,
For Heresy is in her pow'r,
An' gloriously she'll whang her

Wi' pith this day.


Come, let a proper text be read,

An' touch it aff wi' vigour,
How graceless Ham? leugh at his Dad,

Which made Canaan a niger;
Or Phineas 3 drove the murdering blade,

Wi’ wh-re-abhorring rigour;
Or Zipporah4, the scauldin jade,
Was like a bluidy tiger

I th’ inn that day,

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There, try his mettle on the creed,

An' bind him down wi' caution,
That Stipend is a carnal weed

He taks but for the fashion;
An' gie him owre the flock, to feed,

An' punish each transgression;
Especial, rams that cross the breed,
Gie them sufficient threshin,-

Spare them nae day.

2 Genesis, ix. 22.

3 Numbers, xxv. 8.

4 Exodus, iv. 25.



Now, auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail,

An' toss thy horns fu' canty; Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale,

Because thy pasture's scanty;
For lapfu’s large o' gospel kail

Shall fill thy crib in plenty,
An' runts o' grace the pick and wale,
No gi'en by way o' dainty,

But ilka day.


Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep,

To think upon our Zion;
And hing our fiddles up to sleep,

Like baby-clouts a-dryin:
Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep,

An' o'er the thairms be tryin; 0, rare! to see our elbucks wheep, An' a' like lamb-tails flyin

Fu' fast this day!

Lang Patronage, wi' rod o' airn,

Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin,
As lately F-nw-ck, sair forfairn,

Has proven to its ruin:
Our Patron, honest man! Glencairn,

He saw mischief was brewin:
An' like a godly elect bairn,
He's wald us out a true ane,

And sound this day.


Now R******* harangue nae mair,

But steek your gab for ever: Or try the wicked town of A**,

For there they'll think you clever;
Or, nae reflection on your lear,

Ye may commence a Shaver;
Or to the N-th-rt-n repair,
An' turn a Carpet-weaver

Aff-hand this day.


M***** and you were just a match,

We never had sic twa drones: Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,

Just like a winkin baudrons;

he catch'd the tither wretch,
To fry them in his caudrons;
But now his honour maun detach,
Wi' a' his brimstane squadrons,

Fast, fast this day.


See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes

She's swingein thro' the city; Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays !

I vow it's unco pretty:
There, Learning, wi' his Greekish face,

Grunts out some Latin ditty;
An' Common Sense is gaun, she says,
To mak to Jamie Beattie

Her plaint this day.


But there's Morality himsel,

Embracing a' opinions;
Hear, how he gies the tither yell,

Between his twa companions;
See, how she peels the skin an' fell,

As ane were peelin onions!
Now there—they're packed aff to hell,
And banish'd our dominions,

Henceforth this day.


O happy day! rejoice, rejoice!

Come bouse about the porter!
Morality's demure decoys

Shall here nae mair find quarter:
M «*******, R*****, are the boys

That Heresy can torture;
They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse,
And cow her measure shorter

By th' head some day.

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,

And here's, for a conclusion,
To every New Lights mother's son,

From this time forth, Confusion:
If mair they deave us wi' their din,

Or Patronage intrusion,
We'll light a spunk, and, every skin,
We'll rin them aff in fusion

Like oil, some day. 5 New Light is a cant phrase, in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously.

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