REPLY TO AN ANNOUNCEMENT BY J. RANKINE ON HIS WRITING TO THE POET, THAT A GIRL IN THAT PART OF THE COUNTRY WAS WITH CHILD TO HIM. I AM a keeper of the law In some sma' points, altho' not a’; The breaking of ae point, tho' sma', I hae been in for't ance or twice, But now a rumour's like to rise- EPISTLE TO JOHN RANKINE ENCLOSING SOME POEMS O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted Rankine, Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin Ye hae sae mony cracks an' cants, An' fill them fou; And then their failings, flaws, an' wants, Are a' seen thro'. Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it! That holy robe, O dinna tear it! Spare't for their sakes, wha aften wear it- But your curst wit, when it comes near it, Think, wicked Sinner, wha ye're skaithing: Frae ony unregenerate heathen, I've sent you here some rhyming ware, Yon sang ye'll sen't, wi' cannie care, Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing! An' danc'd my fill! I'd better gaen an' sair't the king, 'Twas ae night lately, in my fun, And, as the twilight was begun, Thought nane wad ken. The poor, wee thing was little hurt; Ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't; Somebody tells the poacher-court The hale affair. Some auld, us'd hands had taen a note, That sic a hen had got a shot; I was suspected for the plot; So gat the whissle o' my groat, But by my gun, o' guns the wale, I vow an' swear! The game shall pay, o'er muir an' dale, As soon's the clockin-time is by, Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye Trowth, they had muckle for to blame! It pits me aye as mad's a hare; When time's expedient: Meanwhile I am, respected Sir, Your most obedient. A POET'S WELCOME TO HIS LOVE-BEGOTTEN DAUGHTER' THE FIRST INSTANCE THAT ENTITLED HIM TO THE VENERABLE APPELLATION OF FATHER THOU's Welcome, wean; mishanter fa' me, If thoughts o' thee, or yet thy mamie, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me 1 Burns never published this poem. Tho' now they ca' me fornicator, An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter Welcome! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter, Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for, And tho' your comin' I hae fought for, Baith kirk and queir; Yet, by my faith, ye're no unwrought for, That I shall swear! Wee image o' my bonie Betty, As a' the priests had seen me get thee Sweet fruit o' mony a merry dint, Tho' I should be the waur bestead, As ony brat o' wedlock's bed, In a' thy station. Lord grant that thou may aye inherit "Twill please me mair to see thee heir it, Than stockit mailens. For if thou be what I wad hae thee, The cost nor shame o't, But be a loving father to thee, And brag the name o't. SONG O LEAVE NOVELS1 O LEAVE novels, ye Mauchline belles, For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgiel; Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, Are worse than poisoned darts of steel; Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. FRAGMENT-THE MAUCHLINE LADY Tune "I had a horse, I had nae mair." WHEN first I came to Stewart Kyle, But when I came roun' by Mauchline toun, Not dreadin anybody, My heart was caught, before I thought, And by a Mauchline lady. 1 Burns never published this poem. |