Is there, that bears the name o' Scot,
But feels his heart's bluid rising hot,
To see his poor auld Mither's pot

Thus dung in staves,

An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat

By gallows knaves?

Alas! I'm but a nameless wight,

Trode i' the mire out o' sight!

But could I like Montgomeries fight,

Or gab like Boswell,

There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight,

An' tie some hose well.

God bless your Honors, can ye see't,
The kind, auld, cantie Carlin greet,
An' no get warmly to your feet,

An' gar them hear it!

An' tell them, wi' a patriot-heat,

Ye winna bear it!

Some o' you nicely ken the laws,
To round the period an' pause,
An' with rhetoric clause on clause

To mak harangues;
Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's

Auld Scotland's wrangs.

.3

Dempster,' a true blue Scot I'se warran;
Thee, aith2-detesting, chaste Kilkerran ;3
An' that glib-gabbet Highland Baron,

The Laird o' Graham;"
An' ane, a chap that's d―d auldfarran,ʻ
Dundas his name.

Erskine, a spunkie' Norland billic;
True Campbells, Frederick an' Ilay;
An' Livingstone, the bauld Sir Willie;
An' monie ithers,

Whom auld Demosthenes, or Tully,

Might own for brithers.

Arouse, my boys! exert your mettle,
To get auld Scotland back her kettle;
Or faith! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle,'
Ye'll see't or lang,

She'll teach you, wi' a reekin whittle,

Another sang.

George Dempster, Esq., of Dunnichen, in Forfarshire.

3 Sir Adam Ferguson.-R. B.

* Oath.

Quick and smooth-speaking. 5 The Duke of Montrose.-R. B.
Sagacious.
Plough-staff.

7 Fiery.

THE AUTHOR'S CRY AND PRAYER.

This while she's been in crankous' mood
Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid;
(Deil na they never mair do guid,

Play'd her that pliskie!)'

An' now she's like to rin red-wud'

About her Whisky.

An' Lord, if ance they pit her till't,'
Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt,
An' durk an' pistol at her belt,

She'll tak the streets,

An' rin her whittle to the hilt,

I' th' first she meets!

For God sake, Sirs! then speak her fair,
An' straik" her cannie wi' the hair,

An' to the muckle house repair,

Wi' instant speed,

An' strive, wi' a' your wit and lear,
To get remead.

Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox,
May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks;
But gie him't het, my hearty cocks!
E'en cowe the cadie!

7

An' send him to nis dicing-box,

An' sportin lady.

Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's

I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks,

An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock's

Nine times a-week,

If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks,"

Wad kindly seek.

Could he some commutation broach,
I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch,
He need na fear their foul reproach
Nor erudition,

Yon mixtie-maxtie1 queer hotch-potch,

The Coalition.

Auld Scotland has a raucle13 tongue;
She's just a devil wi' a rung;1

1 Fretful.

.14

'Stroke.

2 Trick. 3 Distracted. 4 To it.
Terrify the young fellow.
• Thick cakes of mixed corn.

• Learning.

7 Hot.

13

1A worthy old hostess of the Author's in Mauchliae, where he sometimes studies politics over a glass of guid auld Scotch Drink.― R. B.

11 Windows. 12 Confusedly mixed. 13 Fearless. 14 Cudgel.

An' if she promise auld or young
To tak their part,

Tho' by the neck she should be strung,
She'll no desert.

An' now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty,
May still your Mither's heart support ye;
Then, though a Minister grow dorty,'
An kick your place,

Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty,
Before his face.

God bless your Honors a' your days,
Wi' sowps o' kail an' brats o' claise,"
In spite o' a' the thievish kaes3

That haunt St. Jamie's!

Your humble Poet sings an' prays

While Rab his name is.

POSTSCRIPT.

LET half-starv'd slaves, in warmer skies
See future wines, rich-clust'ring, rise;
Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies,

But blyth an' frisky,

She eyes her freeborn, martial boys,

Tak aff their Whisky.

What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms,
While fragrance blooms an' beauty charms!
When wretches range, in famish'd swarms,
The scented groves,

Or, hounded forth, dishonour arms

In hungry droves.

Their gun's a burden on their shouther;
They downa bide the stink o' powther;
Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither
To stan' or rin,

Till skelp-a shot-they're aff, a' throwther,"
To save their skin.

But bring a Scotsman frae his hill,
Clap in his cheek a Highland gill,
Say, such is royal George's will,

An' there's the foe,

He has nae thought but how to kill
Twa at a blow.

Saucy.

* Clothes.

• Daws.

• Pell-mell.

4 Hesitation,

THE HOLY FAIR.

Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him:
Death comes, wi fearless eye he sees him;
Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him;

An' when he fa's,

His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him
In faint huzzas.

Sages their solemn een may steek,'
An' raise a philosophic reek,"

An' physically causes seek,

In clime an' season;

But tell me Whisky's name in Greek,
I'll tell the reason.

Scotland, my auld, respected Mither!
Tho' whyles ye moistify your leather,
Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather,
Ye tine' your dam;

Freedom and Whisky gang thegither!
Tak aff your dram!

15

THE HOLY FAIR.'

A robe of seeming truth and trust
Hid crafty Observation;

And secret hung, with poison'd crust,
The dirk of Defamation:

A mask that like the gorget show'd,
Dye-varying on the pigeon;

And for a mantle large and broad,

He wrapt him in Religion.--Hypocrisy d-la-mode.

UPON a simmer Sunday morn,

When Nature's face is fair,

I walked forth to view the corn,
An' snuff the caller" air.

The risen sun, owre Galston muirs,
Wi' glorious light was glintin;

The hares were hirplin' down the furs,
The lav'rocks they were chantin
Fu' sweet that day.

2 Smoke.

• Lose.

1 Shut. Holy Fair is a common phrase in the West of Scotland for a acramental occasion.-R. B.

Fergusson, in his "Hallow Fair" of Edinburgh, I believe, furmished a hint and title of the plan of the "Holy Fair." The farcical scene the poet there describes was often a favourite field of his observation, and the most of the incidents he mentions had actually passed before his eyes.-G. B.

Fresh. The adjoining parish to Mauchline.

T Creeping.

8 Larks.

As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad,
To see a scene sae gay,
Three Hizzies, early at the road,
Cam skelpin' up the way.
Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black,
But ane wi' lyart' linin;

The third, that gaed a wee a-back,

Was in the fashion shinin,

Fu' gay that day.

The twa appear'd like sisters twin,
In feature, form, an' claes;
Their visage wither'd, lang, an' thin,
An' sour as ony slaes:3

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,
I think ye seem to ken me;

I'm sure I've seen that bonnie face,
But yet I canna name ye.

Quo' she, an' laughing as she spak,
An' taks me by the hands,

"Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck

Of a' the ten commands

A screed some day.

"My name is Fun-your cronie dear,
The nearest friend ye hae;

An' this is Superstition here,

An' that's Hypocrisy.

I'm gaun to Mauchline Holy Fair,

4 Lamb.

To spend an hour in daffin:"

Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd' pair,

We will get famous laughin

At them this day."

Quoth I, "With a' my heart, I'll do't;
I'll get my Sunday's sarkR on,
An meet you on the holy spot;
Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin!"

1 Tripping

2 Gray.
• Merriment,

6 A rent.

8 Shirt.

3 Sloes.
7 Wrinkled