See, sodger Hugh," my watchman stented, 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, 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 About her whisky. An' L-d! 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 G-d-sake, sirs! then speak her fair, An' to the muckle house repair, Wi' instant speed, An' strive, wi' a' your wit an' lear, To get remead. Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, May taunt you wi' his jeers and mocks; E'en cowe the cadie! 10 Col. Hugh Montgomery, afterward Earl of Eglinton. An' send him to his dicing box An' sportin lady. 11 Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's," If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks, Wad kindly seek. Could he some commutation broach, I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch, 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, She'll no desert. And now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty, An' kick your place, Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty, Before his face. God bless your Honours, a' your days, Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise, In spite o' a' the thievish kaes, That haunt St. Jamie's! While Rab his name is. Your humble poet sings an' prays, 11 Pitt, whose grandfather was of Boconnock in Cornwall. 19 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. 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; They downa bide the stink o' powther; Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither To stan' or rin, Till skelp a shot-they're aff, a' throw'ther, To save their skin. 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; Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him; Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gies him; An' when he fa's, 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' And there tak up your stations; Then aff to Begbie's in a raw, An' pour divine libations For joy this day. Curst "Common-sense," that imp o' hell, 1 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. $ 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 stour; And gloriously she'll whang her Wi' pith this day. Come, let a proper text be read, How graceless Ham' leugh at his dad, Or Zipporah,' the scauldin jad, Was like a bluidy tiger I' th' inn that day. There, try his mettle on the creed, That stipend is a carnal weed He taks but for the fashion; Spare them nae day. Now, auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail, Nae mair thou'lt rowt out-owre the dale, For lapfu's large o' gospel kail An' runts o' grace the pick an' wale, But ilka day. Genesis ix, 22.-R. B. Numbers xxv. 8.-R. B. 7 Exodus iv. 25.-R. B. |