THE TWA HERDS". O A' ye pious godly flocks, Wha now will keep you frae the fox, Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks, The twa best herds in a' the wast, Hae had a bitter black out-cast, Atween themsel. O M-y, man, and wordy R-11, The Lord's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle, O, sirs, whae'er wad hae expeckit But by the brutes themselves eleckit To be their guide. This piece was among the first of our Author's productions which he submitted to the public; and was occasioned by a dispute between two clergymen, near Kilmarnock. VOL. II. D What flock wi' M-y's flock could rank, Frae Calvin's well, aye clear, they drank, The thummart wil'-cat, brock and tod, And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid, What herd like R -Il tell'd his tale, His voice was heard thro' muir and dale, O'er a' the height, And saw gin they were sick or hale, He fine a mangy sheep could scrub, And new-light herds could nicely drub, Could shake them owre the burning dub, Or heave them in. Sic twa-O! do I live to see't, Ilk ither gi'en, While new-light herds wi' laughin' spite, Say neither's liein'! THE TWA HERDS. A' ye wha tent the gospel fauld, But chiefly thou, apostle Ad, -s shaul, That thou wilt work them, hot and cauld, Consider, sirs, how we're beset, I hope frae heav'n to see them yet D- e has been lang our fae, M'- -ll has wrought us meikle wae, And that curs'd rascal ca'd M' -e, And baith the S-s, That aft hae made us black and blae, Wi' vengefu' paws. Auld Ww lang has hatch'd mischief, Ane to succeed him, A chiel wha'll soundly buff our beef; I meikle dread him. And mony a ane that I could tell, There S -h for ane, I doubt he's but a grey nick quill, And that ye'll fin'. 35 O! a' ye flocks, owre a' the hills, And get the brutes the power themsels Then Orthodoxy yet may prance, Be banish'd owre the sea to France; Then Shaw's and D'rymple's eloquence, And guid Mb, Wi' S -th, wha thro' the heart can glance, THE HENPECKED HUSBAND. CURS'D be the man, the poorest wretch in life, The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife! Who has no will but by her high permission; Who has not sixpence but in her possession; Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell; Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell. Were such the wife had fallen to my part, I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart: I'd charm her with the magic of a switch, I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b-h. EPITAPH, ON A HENPECKED COUNTRY-SQUIRE. EPIGRAM ON SAID OCCASION. O DEATH, had'st thou but spar'd his life Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graf, ANOTHER. ONE Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell, her, [powder. the She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up But Queen N*******, of a different complexion, When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction, Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pre tence, Not to shew her respect, but-to save the expense. |