THE TWA HERDS".

O A' ye pious godly flocks,
Well fed on pastures orthodox,

Wha now will keep you frae the fox,
Or worrying tykes,

Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks,
About the dykes?

The twa best herds in a' the wast,
That e'er gae gospel horn a blast,
These five and twenty summers past,
O dool to tell!

Hae had a bitter black out-cast,

Atween themsel.

O M-y, man, and wordy R-11,
How could you raise so vile a bustle,
Ye'll see how new-light herds will whistle,
And think it fine!

The Lord's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle,
Sin' I hae min'.

O, sirs, whae'er wad hae expeckit
Your duty ye wad sae negleckit,
Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit,
To wear the plaid,

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,
Sae hale and hearty every shank,
Nae poison'd soor Arminian stank
He let them taste,

Frae Calvin's well, aye clear, they drank,
O' sic a feast!

The thummart wil'-cat, brock and tod,
Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood,
He smell'd their ilka hole and road,
Baith out and in,

And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid,
And sell their skin.

What herd like R -Il tell'd his tale,

His voice was heard thro' muir and dale,
He kend the Lord's sheep, ilka tail,

O'er a' the height,

And saw gin they were sick or hale,
At the first sight.

He fine a mangy sheep could scrub,
Or nobly fling the gospel club,

And new-light herds could nicely drub,
Or pay their skin,

Could shake them owre the burning dub,

Or heave them in.

Sic twa-O! do I live to see't,
Sic famous twa should disagreet,
An' names, like villain, hypocrite,

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,
There's D. ―n deep, and P-

But chiefly thou, apostle Ad,
We trust in thee,

-s shaul,

That thou wilt work them, hot and cauld,
Till they agree.

Consider, sirs, how we're beset,
There's scarce a new herd that we get,
But comes frae 'mang that cursed set
I winna name,

I hope frae heav'n to see them yet
In fiery flame.

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,
We thought aye death wad bring relief,
But he has gotten, to our grief,

Ane to succeed him,

A chiel wha'll soundly buff our beef;

I meikle dread him.

And mony a ane that I could tell,
Wha fain would openly rebel,
Forby turn-coats amang oursel,

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,
By mosses, meadows, moors, and fells,
Come join your counsel and your skills,
To cowe the lairds,

And get the brutes the power themsels
To choose their herds.

Then Orthodoxy yet may prance,
And Learning in a woody dance,
And that fell cur ca'd Common Sense,
That bites sae sair,

Be banish'd owre the sea to France;
Let him bark there.

Then Shaw's and D'rymple's eloquence,
M'-ll's close nervous excellence,
M'Q's pathetic manly sense,

And guid Mb,

Wi' S -th, wha thro' the heart can glance,
May a' pack aff.

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.
As father Adam first was fool'd,
A case that's still too common,
Here lies a man a woman rul'd,
The devil rul'd the woman.

EPIGRAM

ON SAID OCCASION.

O DEATH, had'st thou but spar'd his life
Whom we this day lament!
We freely wad exchang'd the wife,
And a' been weel content.

Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graf,
The swap we yet will do't;
Take thou the Carlin's carcase aff,
Thou'se get the saul o' boot.

ANOTHER.

ONE Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,
When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well,
In respect for the love and affection he'd shewn

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.