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I've heard my rev'rend graunie say,
In lanelyi3 glens ye like to stray;

1 From rloot, one of the T pit

divisions of a do- 8 slow
ven hoof. » bashful

2 brimstone 10 timid

3 scald n sometimes

* hangman 12 unroofing 5 slap 13 lonely

o blazing

• "The humorous satire of the piece Is at the

expense of popular Scottish Calvinism."—J L. Robertson.

t "Spairge* is the best Scots word In Its place I ever met with. Tho dell Is not standing flinging the liquid brimstone on his friends with a ladle, but we see him standing at a large boiling vat, with something like a golfbat, striking the liquid this way and that way aslant, with all his might, making It fly through the whole npartmcnt. while the inmates arc winking and holding up their arms to defend their faces." (James flogg.) This interpretation admirably fits the word apairgca (Latin, spargere, to sprinkle; English, asptrge, atperae); if It Is correct, the word cootie, which properly means a wooden kitchen dish of any size from a ladle to a small tub. Is used rather boldly for the contents of the cootie.

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When the best wark-lume i* the house,

By cantripi wit,
Is instant made no worth a louse,
JuBt at the bit.-


When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
An' float the jinglin icy boord,
Then water-kelpies' haunt the foord,

By your direction,
An' 'nighted trav'lers are allur'd

To their destruction.


And ait your moss-traversing spunkies*
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is:
The bleezin,& curst, mischievous monkies

Delude his eyes,
Till in some miry slough he sunk is,

Ne'er mair J,o rise.


When masons' mystic word an' grip
In storms an' tempests raise you up,
Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,

Or, strange to tell!
The youngest brither ye wad whip

Aff straught to hell.


Lang syne,» in Eden's bonie* yard, When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd, An' all the soul of love they shar'd,

The raptur'd hour, Sweet on the fragrant flow 'ry swaird,

In shady bow 'r;


Then you, ye auld snick'-drawing dog!

Ye cam to Paradise incog,

An' play'd on man a cursed brogue,*

(Black be your fa'!») An' gied the infant warld a shog,10

'Maist ruin'd a '.


D'ye mind that day when, in a bizz,n
Wi' reeket duds, an' reestet gizz,> =
Ye did present your smoutie phiz
'Mang better folk,

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Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your neibours' fauts and folly!

Whase life is like a weel-gauni mill,
Supplied wi' store o' water;

The heapet happer's ebbing still,
An' still the clap= plays clatter,—


Hear me, yc venerable core,3

As counsel for poor mortals
That frequent pass douce* Wisdom's door

For glaiket° Folly's portals:
I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,

Would here propones defences—
Their donsie7 tricks, their black mistakes,

Their failings and mischances.


Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd,

And shudder at the niffer;*
But cast a moment's fair regard,

What makes the mighty differ!"
Discount what scant occasion gave,

That purity ye pride in; And (what's aft mair than a' the lave)

Your better art o' hidin.


Think, when your castigated pulse

Gies now and then a wallop,
What ragings must his veins convulse

That still eternal gallop! •
Wi' wind and tide, fair i' your tail,

Right on ye scud your sea-way;
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,

It makes an unco lee-way.


See Social Life and Glee sit down,

All joyous and unthinking, Till, quite transmugrified,io they're grown

Debauchery and Drinking: 0 would they stay to calculate

Th' eternal consequences; Or—your more dreaded hell to state—

Damnation of expenses! ....


Then gently scan your brother man,

Still gentler sister woman;
Tho' they may gang a kenninii wrang,

To step aside is human;
One point must still be greatly dark,—

The moving Why they do it; And just as lamely can ye mark,

How far perhaps they rue it.

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Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin' ferlief8
Your impudence protects you sairly;"
I canna say but ye strunt'o rarely,

Owre gauze and lace;
Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely

On sic a place.


Ye ugly, creepin, blastit11 wouuer,12
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,
How daur ye set your fit'3 upon her—

Sae fine a ladyf
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner

On some poor body.


Swith!n in some beggar's haffet'"' squattle;"» There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle." Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,

In shoals and nations; Whaur hornis nor bane'» ne'er daur unsettle

Your thick plantations.

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Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,
The bonie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet

Wi' spreckl'd breast,
When upward-springing, blythe, to greet

The purpling east.


Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth

Amid the storm,
Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth

Thy tender form.


The flaunting flow 'rs our gardens yield,
High shelt 'ring woods an' wa's' maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield2

0' clod or stane, Adorns the histie3 stibble field

Unseen, alane.


There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head

In humble guise;
But now the share uptears thy bed,

And low thou liesl


Such is the fate of artless maid,
Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!
By love's simplicity betray'd,

And guileless trust;
Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid

Low i' the dust.


Such is the fate of simple bard,
On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd!
Unskilful he to note the card'

Of prudent lore.
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,

And whelm him o'er!


Such fate to suffering Worth is giv'n,
Who long with wants and woes has striv'n,
By human pride or cunning driv'n

To mis 'ry's brink;
Till wrench'd of ev'rv stay but Heav'n,

He ruin'd sink!

1 walls 3 barren

2 shelter 4 compass-card


Ev 'n thou who mourn 'st the Daisy's fate,
That fate is thine—no distant date;
Stern Ruin's plough-share drives elate,

Full on thy bloom,
Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight

Shall be thy doom!



"Of Brownyis and of Bogillls full Is this Buke."


When chapman1 billies2 leave the street,

And drouthy3 neibors neibors meet,

As market-days are wearing late,

And folk begin to tak the gate;

While we sit bousin* at the nappy,0 6

An' getting fou8 and unco7 happy,

We think na on the Iang Scots miles,

The mosses, waters, slaps,8 and stiles,

That lie between us and our hame,

Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame, 10

Gathering her brows like gathering storm,

Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand" honest Tarn o' Shanter, As he frae Ayr ae night did canter: (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, 15 For honest men and bonie lasses).

O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise, As taen thy ain wife Kate's advice! She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,10 A bletherin,n blusterin, drunken blellum;1^ 20 That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou was na sober; That ilka melder13 wi' the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; That ev'ry naig was ea'd11 a shoe on, 25 The smith and thee gat roarin fou on; That at the Lord's house, ev 'n on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. She prophesied that, late or soon, Thou would be found, deep drown'd in Doon, 80 Or eatch'd wi' warlocks10 in the mirk,18 By Alloway's auld, haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,1T I To think how mony counsels sweet,

1 pedlar K> rascal

2 fellows u idly-talking

3 thirsty 12 babbler

4 drinking 13 e v e r y grinding o f

5 ale corn

6 full i< driven

7 very 15 wizards s gates 18 dark

o found 17 make me weep

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