ON A NOISY POLEMIC.

BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie's banes:
O Death! it's my opinion,

Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin' b-tch
Into thy dark dominion!

ON WEE JOHNNY

Hic jacet wee Johnnie.

WHOE'ER thou art, O reader, know

That Death has murder'd Johnny!

An' here his body lies fu' low
For saul, he ne'er had ony.

FOR G. H., ESQ.

THE poor man weeps here Gn sleeps,

Whom canting wretches blam'd:

But with such as he, where'er he be,
May I be sav'd or damn'd!

ON A WAG IN MAUCHLINE.

LAMENT him, Mauchline husbands a',
He aften did assist ye:

For had ye staid whole weeks awa',

Your wives, they ne'er had miss'd ye.

Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye pass
To school in bands thegither,
O tread ye lightly on the grass,
Perhaps he was your father'

ON JOHN DOVE,

INN-KEEPER, MAUCHLINE,

HERE lies Johnny Pidgeon;
What was his religion,

Whae'er desires to ken,

To some other warl'

Maun follow the carl,

For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane

Strong ale was ablution,

Small beer persecution,

A dram was memento mori;

But a full flowing bowl

Was the saving his soul,
And Port was celestial glory.

ON WALTER S—

Sic a reptile was Wat,
Sic a miscreant slave,
That the worms even d
When aid in his grave.

-d him,

"In his flesh there's a famine,"

A starv'd reptile cries;
"And his heart is rank poison,"
Another replies.

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 1

EPIGRAM ON SAID OCCASION.

O DEATH! hadst 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 graff,
The swap we yet will do't;
Tak thou the Carlin's carcass aff,
Thou'se get the saul o' boot!

ANOTHER.

ONE Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell,

When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well,

In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd

her,

She reduc'd him to dust, and she drank up the powder.

But Queen N*******, of a diff'rent complexion,
When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction,

Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pre

tence,

Not to show her respect, but to save the ex pense!

ON THE DEATH OF A LAP-DOG NAMED ECHO.

IN wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;

Now half extinct your pow'rs of song,
Sweet Echo is no more '

Ye jarring screeching things around,
Scream your discordant joys;

Now half your din of tuneless sound
With Echo silent lies.

IMPROMPTU ON MRS.

'S BIRTH-DAY,

4TH NOVEMBER, 1793.

OLD Winter, with his frosty beard,
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferr'd:
What have I done, of all the year,
To bear this hated doom severe ?
My cheerless sons no pleasure know;
Night's horrid car drags dreary, slow;
My dismal months no joys are crowning,
But spleeny English, hanging, drowning.

Now, Jove, for once, be mighty civil;
To counterbalance all this evil,
Give me and I've no more to say,
Give me Maria's natal day!

That brilliant gift will so enrich me,

Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me,

"Tis done, says Jove; so ends my story

And Winter once rejoic'd in glory.