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I've heard my rev'rend graunie say,
1 From rloot, one of the T pit
divisions of a do- 8 slow
2 brimstone 10 timid
3 scald n sometimes
* hangman 12 unroofing 5 slap 13 lonely
• "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.
When the best wark-lume i* the house,
By cantripi wit,
When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
By your direction,
To their destruction.
And ait your moss-traversing spunkies*
Delude his eyes,
Ne'er mair J,o rise.
When masons' mystic word an' grip
Or, strange to tell!
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
Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Whase life is like a weel-gauni mill,
The heapet happer's ebbing still,
Hear me, yc venerable core,3
As counsel for poor mortals
For glaiket° Folly's portals:
Would here propones defences—
Their failings and mischances.
Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd,
And shudder at the niffer;*
What makes the mighty differ!"
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,
That still eternal gallop! •
Right on ye scud your sea-way;
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;
To step aside is human;
The moving Why they do it; And just as lamely can ye mark,
How far perhaps they rue it.
TO A LOUSE
ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY *S BONNET AT CHURCH 1
Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin' ferlief8
Owre gauze and lace;
On sic a place.
Ye ugly, creepin, blastit11 wouuer,12
Sae fine a ladyf
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.
Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,
Wi' spreckl'd breast,
The purpling east.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Amid the storm,
Thy tender form.
The flaunting flow 'rs our gardens yield,
0' clod or stane, Adorns the histie3 stibble field
There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
In humble guise;
And low thou liesl
Such is the fate of artless maid,
And guileless trust;
Low i' the dust.
Such is the fate of simple bard,
Of prudent lore.
And whelm him o'er!
Such fate to suffering Worth is giv'n,
To mis 'ry's brink;
He ruin'd sink!
1 walls 3 barren
2 shelter 4 compass-card
Ev 'n thou who mourn 'st the Daisy's fate,
Full on thy bloom,
Shall be thy doom!
TAM 0' SHANTER
"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