An' Livistone, the bauld Sir Willie;" Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully Might own for brithers. See, sodger Hugh,10 my watchman stented, If poets e'er are represented; I ken if that your sword were wanted, But when there's ought to say anent it, Arouse, my boys! exert your mettle, She'll teach you, wi' a reekin whittle, Anither sang. This while she's been in crankous mood, (Deil na they never mair do guid, Play'd her that pliskie!) An' now she's like to rin red-wud An' Lord! if ance they pit her till't, She'll tak the streets, An' rin her whittle to the hilt, I' the 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 an' lear, To get remead. 9 Sir Wm. Augustus Cunningham, Baronet, of Livingstone. 10 Col. Hugh Montgomery, afterward Earl of Eglinton. Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, E'en cowe the cadie! An' send him to his dicing box An' sportin' lady. Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's," An' drink his health in auld Nance Tinnock's12 If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks, Wad kindly seek. Could he some commutation broach, Nor erudition, Yon mixtie-maxtie, queer hotch-potch, The Coalition. Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue; An' if she promise auld or young To tak their part, Tho' by the neck she should be strung, And now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty, An' kick your place, Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty, God bless your Honours, a' your days, 11 Pitt, whose grandfather was of Boconnock in Cornwall. 12 A worthy old hostess of the author's in Mauchline, where he sometimes studies politics over a glass of gude auld Scotch Drink.—R. B. In spite o' a' the thievish kaes, 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 But, blythe and frisky, She eyes her freeborn, martial boys Tak aff their whisky. What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms, While fragrance blooms and 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; Till skelp-a shot-they're aff, a' throw'ther, But bring a Scotchman frae his hill, Say, such is royal George's will, An' there's the foe! He has nae thought but how to kill Twa at a blow. Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him; His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him In faint huzzas. Sages their solemn een may steek, An' physically causes seek, In clime an' season; But tell me whisky's name in Greek, Scotland, my auld, respected mither! Freedom an' whisky gang thegither! Take aff your dram! THE ORDINATION For sense, they little owe to frugal Heav'n- KILMARNOCK Wabsters, fidge an' claw, Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a' Then aff to Begbie's in a raw, An' pour divine libations. For joy this day. Curst Common-sense, that imp o' hell, An' set the bairns to daud her Wi' dirt this day. Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late reverend and worthy Mr. Lindsay to the "Laigh Kirk.”—R. B. 2 Rev. James Oliphant, minister of Chapel of Ease, Kilmarnock. 3 Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock. 4 Rev. James Mackinlay. Mak haste an' turn King David owre, O' double verse come gie us four, This day the kirk kicks up a stoure; And gloriously she'll whang her Wi' pith this day. Come, let a proper text be read, Or Zipporah,' the scauldin jad, Was like a bluidy tiger I' th' inn that day. There, try his mettle on the creed, Spare them nae day. Now, auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail, An' toss thy horns fu' canty; Nae mair thou'lt rowt out-owre the dale, For lapfu's large o' gospel kail An' runts o' grace the pick an' wale, No gi'en by way o' dainty, But ilka day. 5 Genesis ix. 22.-R. B. 6 Numbers xxv. 8.-R. B. 7 Exodus iv. 52.—R. B. |