POSTSCRIPT

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,
Clap in his cheek a Highland gill,
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,d
An' raise a philosophic reek,

An' physically causes seek,

In clime an' season;

But tell me whisky's name in Greek,

I'll tell the reason.

Scotland, my auld, respected mither!
Tho' whiles ye moistify your leather,

⚫ indecision.

b pop!

c in confusion.

• shut.

Till, whare ye sit on craps o' heather,

Ye tine your dam;

Freedom an' whisky gang thegither!

Tak aff your dram.1

The Ordination.2

"For sense, they little owe to frugal Heav'n-
To please the mob they hide the little giv'n."

KILMARNOCK Wabsters, fidge an' claw,
An' pour your creeshieb nations;
An' ye wha leather rax an' draw,
Of a' denominations;

Swithd to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a'
An' there tak up your stations;
Then aff to Begbie's in a raw,

An' pour divine libations

For joy this day.

.8

Curst "Common-sense," that imp o' hell,
Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder;
But Oliphant aft made her yell,
An' Russell 5 sair misca'd her :
This day Mackinlay taks the flail,
An' he's the boy will blaude her!
He'll clap a shangan' on her tail,
An' set the bairns to daud her
Wi' dirt this day.

⚫ lose.

b greasy.

was made on the admission of the late reverend and worthy Mr Lindsay to the "Laigh Kirk."—R.B.

• stretch. • slap. fa cleft stick. 1 In the edition of 1794 the closing lines are weakly altered toTill, when ye speak, ye aiblins blether, Yet, deil mak matter ! Freedom and whisky gang thegither, Tak aff your whitter.

2 Written very early in 1786, but not included in the Kilmarnock Edition. A paper bullet in the war of Auld and New Lights-Calvinism and "Common Sense," which, by the way, is no theological criterion.

Alluding to a scoffing ballad which

Rev. James Oliphant, minister of Chapel of Ease, Kilmarnock, from 1764 to 1774.

5 Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock, one of the "Twa Herds." He was successor to Oliphant.

6 Rev. James Mackinlay, subject of the present poem, ordained 6th April 1786. As a preacher, he became " great favourite of the million."

sing.

THE ORDINATION

Mak haste an' turn King David owre,
And lilta wi' holy clangor;
O' double verse come gie us four,
An' skirl up the Bangor:

This day the kirk kicks up a stour,b
Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,
For Heresy is in her pow'r,

And gloriously she'll whang her
Wi' pith this day.

Come, let a proper text be read,
An' touch it aff wi' vigour,
How graceless Ham1 leughd at his dad,
Which made Canaan a nigger;

Or Phineas 2 drove the murdering blade,
Wi' whore-abhorring rigour ;

Or Zipporah, the scauldin jad,
Was like a bluidy tiger

I' th' inn that day.

There, try his mettle on the creed,
And bind him down wi' caution,

That stipend is a carnal weed

He taks but for the fashion;
And gie him o'er the flock to feed,1
And punish each transgression;
Especial, rams that cross the breed,
Gie them sufficient threshin;

Spare them nae day.

Now, auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail,

An' toss thy horns fu' canty';

Nae mair thou'lt rowts out-owre the dale,
Because thy pasture's scanty;

b dust.

• scolding.

1 Genesis ix. 22.-R.B.

• Numbers xxv. 8.-R.B.

3 Exodus iv. 25.—R.B.

Among some other variations in an

early MS. copy, these lines run thus:There try bis mettle on the creed,

For lapfu's large o' gospel kail
Shall fill thy crib in plenty,

An' runts o' grace the pick an' wale,b
No gi'en by way o' dainty,

But ilka day.

Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep,
To think upon our Zion;

And hing our fiddles up to sleep,
Like baby-clouts a-dryin!

Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep,
And o'er the thairmsd be tryin;

Oh, rare to see our elbucks wheep,
And a' like lamb-tails flyin

Fu' fast this day.

Lang, Patronage, with rod o' airn,'
Has shor❜d the Kirk's undoin;
As lately Fenwick, sair forfairn,h
Has proven to its ruin: 1

Our patron, honest man! Glencairn,

He saw mischief was brewin;

An' like a godly, elect bairn,

He's waled' us out a true ane,
And sound, this day.

THE ORDINATION

Or, nae reflection on your lear,
Ye may commence a shaver;
Or to the Netherton 1 repair,
An' turn a carpet weaver

Aff-hand this day.

Mu'trie 2 and you were just a match,
We never had sic twa drones;
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,
Just like a winkin baudrons,"

And aye he catch'd the tither wretch,
To fry them in his caudrons;
But now his Honour maun detach,
Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons,
Fast, fast this day.

See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes
She's swingein thro' the city!

Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays!
I vow it's unco pretty :

There, Learning, with his Greekish face,
Grunts out some Latin ditty;

And Common-sense is gaun, she says,

To mak to Jamie Beattie

Her plaint this day.

But there's Morality himsel',
Embracing all opinions;
Hear, how he gies the tither yell,
Between his twa companions!
See, how she peels the skin an' fell,
As ane were peelin onions!

Now there, they're packèd aff to hell,
An' banish'd our dominions,
Henceforth this day.

& cat.

1 A district of Kilmarnock, where carpet weaving was largely carried on.

2 The Rev. John Multrie, a "Moderave," whom Mackinlay succeeded.