When Vulcan gies his bellys breath, Then Burnewin comes on like Death Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel; The strong forehammer, Till block an' studdie ring an' reel Wi' dinsome clamour. When skirlin weanies see the light, Wae worth them for't! While healths gae round to him wha, tight, When neebors anger at a plea, How easy can the barley-brie Cement the quarrel! It's aye the cheapest Lawyer's fee, To taste the barrel. Alake! that e'er my Muse has reason Wi' liquors nice, An' hardly, in a winter's season, E'er spier her price. Wae worth that Brandy, burnan trash! Fell source o' monie a pain an' brash! Twins monie a poor, doylt, druken hash, O' half his days; An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash To her warst faes. Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well, Ye chief, to you my tale I tell, Poor plackless devils like mysel It sets you ill, Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell, Or foreign gill. May Gravels round his blather wrench, An' Gouts torment him, inch by inch, Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch O' sour disdain, Out owre a glass o' Whisky-punch Wi' honest men ! O Whisky! soul o' plays an' pranks ! When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks Are my poor Verses! Thou comes -they rattle i' their ranks At ither's arses ! Thee, Ferintosh! O sadly lost! Now collic-grips, an barkin hoast, May kill us a'; For loyal Forbes' Charter'd boast Is ta'en awa! Thac curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, Haud up thy han' Deil! ance, twice, thrice! There, seize the blinkers! An' bake them up in brunstane pies For poor damn'd drinkers. Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still Tak' a' the rest, An' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best. THE HOLY FAIR. PON a simmer Sunday morn, UF When Nature's face is fair, I walked forth to view the corn, An' snuff the callor air. The risin' sun, owre GALSTON Muirs, The lav'rocks they were chantan Fu' sweet that day. As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad, Cam skelpan up the way. Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black, But ane wi' lyart lining; The third, that gaed a wee a-back, Was in the fashion shining Fu' gay that day. The twa appear'd like sisters twin, In feature, form, an' claes; C Their visage wither'd, lang an' thin, 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. Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, "Sweet lass, Quo' she, an' laughan as she spak, "Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck Of a' the ten comman's A screed some day. My name is FUN-your cronie dear, 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." |