Upo' the tap o' ilka lum

The sun began to keek,

An' bade the trig-made maidens come
A sightly joe to seek

At Hallowfair, whare browsters rare
Keep gude ale on the gantrees,
An' dinna scrimp ye o' a skair
O' kebbucks frae their pantries,
Fu' saut that day.

Here country John, in bonnet blue,
An' eke his Sunday's claes on,
Rins after Meg wi' rokelay new,
An' sappy kisses lays on :
She'll tauntin' say, "Ye silly coof!

Be o' your gab mair sparin';"
He'll tak the hint, an' creish her loof
Wi' what will buy her fairin',

To chow that day..

Here chapman billies tak their stand,
An' show their bonny wallies;
Wow! but they lie fu' gleg aff hand
To trick the silly fallows :

Heh, sirs! what cairds and tinklers come,
An' ne'er-do-weel horse-coupers,
An' spae-wives, fenzying to be dumb,

Wi' a' sicklike landloupers,

To thrive that day!

Here Sawny cries, frae Aberdeen,

"Come ye to me fa need;

The brawest shanks that e'er were seen
I'll sell ye cheap an' guid:

I wyt they are as pretty hose
As come frae weyr or leem:

Here, tak a rug, an show's your pose,.
Forseeth, my ain's but teem

An' light the day.”

Ye wives, as ye gang through the fair,
O mak your bargains hooly!
O' a' thir wylie louns beware,

Or, fegs! they will ye spulzie.
For fernyear Meg Thomson got
Frae thir mischievous villains,
A scaw'd bit o' a penny note,
That lost a score o' shillin's
To her that day.

The dinlin drums alarm our ears;
The sergeant screechs fu' loud,

"A' gentlemen an' volunteers

That wish your country gude,
Come here to me, an' I sall gie
Twa guineas an' a crown;

A bowl o' punch, that, like the sea,
Will soom a lang dragoon

Wi' ease this day."

Without, the cuissers prance an' nicker,
An' owre the ley-rig scud;
In tents, the carles bend the bicker,
An' rant an' roar like wud.
Then there's sic yellochin an' din,
Wi' wives and wee-anes gabblin,
That ane might trow they were akin
To a' the tongues at Babylon,
Confus'd that day.

When Phoebus ligs in Thetis' lap,
Auld Reekie gies them shelter,

13

Where cadgily they kiss the cap,
An' ca't round helter-skelter.
Jock Bell gaed furth to play his freaks;
Great cause he had to rue it ;
For frae a stark Lochaber-axe

He gat a clamihewit

Fu' sair that night.

"Ohon! (quo' he), I'd rather be
By sword or bagnet stickit,
Than hae my crown or body wi'
Sic deadly weapon nickit."
Wi' that he gat anither straik
Mair weighty than before,
That gar't his feckless body ache,
An' spew the reekin' gore

Fu' red that night.

He pechin on the cawsey lay,

O' kicks an' cuffs weel sair'd; A Highland aith the sergeant gae, "She man pe see our guard.'

Out spak the weirlike corporal,

Pring in ta drucken sot:"

They trail'd him ben, an' by my saul,

He paid his drucken groat

For that neist day.

Gude fouk! as ye come frae the fair,
Bide yont frae this black squad;
There's nae sic savages elsewhere
Allow'd to wear cockad'.

Than the strong lion's hungry maw,
Or tusk o' Russian bear,

Frae their wanruly fellin' paw

Mair cause ye hae to fear

Your death that day.

F

wee soup drink does unco weel,
To haud the heart aboon;
It's gude, as lang's a canny chiel'
Can staun' steeve in his shoon.
But, if a birkie's owre weel sair'd,
It gars him aften stammer

To pleys that bring him to the Guard,
An' eke the Council Chaumer,

Wi' shame that day.

ODE TO THE REE.

HERDS! blithsome tune your canty reeds,
An' welcome to the gowany meads
The pride o' a' the insect thrang,
A stranger to the green sae lang.
Unfauld ilk buss, an' ilka brier,
The bounties o' the gleesome year,
To him whose voice delights the Spring;
Whose soughs the saftest slumbers bring.
The trees in Simmer cleedin drest,
The hillocks in their greenest vest,
The brawest flowers rejoic'd we see
Disclose their sweets, an' ca' on thee,
Blithly to skim on wanton wing
Through a' the fairy haunts o' Spring.
When fields hae got their dewy gift,
An' dawnin' breaks upo' the lift,

Then gang your ways through hight an' how,
Seek cauler haugh or sunny knowe,

Or ivy craig, or burn-bank brae,
Where industry shall bid you gae,

For hiney, or for waxen store,
To ding sad poortith frae the door.
Cou'd feckless creature, man, be wise,
The simmer o' his life to prize,
In winter he might fend fu' bauld,
His eild unkend to nippin' cauld;
Yet thae, alas! are antrin fouk
That lade their scape wi' winter stock.
Auld age maist feckly glowrs right dour
Upo' the ailings o' the poor,

Wha hope for nae comforting, save
That dowie, dismal house, the grave.
Then, feeble man! be wise; tak tent
How industry can fetch content :
Behold the bees where'er they wing,
Or through the bonny bowers o' Spring,
Where violets or where roses blaw,
An' siller dew-draps nightly fa',
Or when on open bent they're seen,
On heather hill or thristle green;
The hiney's still as sweet that flows
Frae thristle cauld, or kendlin rose.

Frae this the human race may learn
Reflection's hiney'd draps to earn,
Whether they tramp life's thorny way,
Or through the sunny vineyard stray.
Instructive bee! attend me still;
Owre a' my labours sey your skill:
For thee shall hineysuckles rise,
Wi' ladin' to your busy thighs,
An' ilka shrub surround my cell,
Whereon ye like to hum an' dwell :
My trees in bourachs owre my ground
Shall fend ye frae ilk blast o' wind;
Nor e'er shall herd, wi ruthless spike,
Delve out the treasures frae your bike,