Alake! that e'er my Muse has reason
To wyte her countrymen wi' treason!
But monie daily weet their weason

Wi' liquors nice,

An' hardly, in a winter's season,

E'er spier her price.

Wae worth that brandy, burning trash! Fell source o' monie a pain an' brash! Twins monie a poor, doylt, drunken hash, O' half his days;

An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash

To her warst faes.

Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well!
Ye chief, to you my tale I tell,

Poor plackless devils like mysel!
It sets you ill,

Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,

Or foreign gill.

May gravels round his blather wrench,
An' gouts torment him inch by inch,
Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch

O' sour disdain,

Out owre a glass o' whisky punch

Wi' honest men.

O whisky! soul o' plays an' pranks!
Accept a bardie's humble thanks!

When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks

Are my poor verses!

Thou comes-1

-they rattle i' their ranks

At ither's a-s!

Thee, Ferintosh! O sadly lost!
Scotland lament frae coast to coast!
Now colic grips, an' barkin hoast,

May kill us a';

For loyal Forbes' charter'd boast

Is ta'en awa!

Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise,
Wha mak the whisky stells their prize!

Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice!
There, seize the blinkers!

An' bake them up in brunstane pies

For poor d-n'd drinkers.

Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still
Hale breeks, a scone, an' whisky gill,
An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,

Tak' a' the rest,

An' deal't about as thy blind skill

Directs thee best.

THE AUTHOR'S

EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER

TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

Dearest of distillation! last and best!

How art thou lost!

Parody on Milton.

YE Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squires
Wha represent our brughs an' shires,
An' doucely manage our affairs

In parliament,

To you a simple poet's prayers

Are humbly sent.

Alas! my roupet Muse is hearse!

Your honours heart wi' grief 'twad pierce,

To see her sittin on her a

Low i' the dust,

An' scriechin out prosaic verse,

An' like to brust!

1 This was written before the act anent the Scotch Distil leries, of session 1786.

Tell them wha hae the chief direction,
Scotland an' me's in great affliction,
E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction
On aquavitæ ;

An' rouse them up to strong conviction,

An' move their pity.

Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier-Youth,
The honest, open, naked truth:

Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth,

His servants humble:

The muckle devil blaw ye south,

If ye dissemble!

Does ony great man glunch an' gloom?
Speak out, an' never fash your thumb!
Let posts an' pensions sink or soom

Wi' them wha grant 'em :

If honestly they canna come,

Far better want 'em.

In gath'rin votes you were na slack;
Now stand as tightly by your tack;
Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back,

An' hum an' haw;

But raise your arm, an' tell your crack
Before them a'.

Paint Scotland greeting owre her thrissle;
Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whissle :
An' d-n'd excisemen in a bussle,

Seizin a stell,

Triumphant crushin't like a mussel
Or lampit shell.

THE AUTHOR'S

EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER'

TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

Dearest of distillation! last and best!

How art thou lost!

Parody on Milton.

YE Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squires
Wha represent our brughs an' shires,
An' doucely manage our affairs

In parliament,

To you a simple poet's prayers

Are humbly sent.

Alas! my roupet Muse is hearse!

Your honours heart wi' grief 'twad pierce,

To see her sittin on her a—

Low i' the dust,

An' scriechin out prosaic verse,

An' like to brust!

1 This was written before the act anent the Scotch Distil leries, of session 1786.