He pechin on the cawsey lay,
O' kicks and cuffs weel sair'd;
A Highland aith the sergeant gae,
"She maun pe see our guard.”
Out spak the weirlike corporal,
Bring in ta drucken sot:"
They trail'd him ben, and by my saul, He paid his drucken groat
Gude fouk, as ye come frae the fair,
Bide yont frae this black squad;
There's nae sic savages elsewhere
Allow'd to wear cockade.
Than the strong lion's hungry maw,
Or tusk o' Russian bear,
Frae their wanruly fellin paw
Mair cause ye hae to fear
Your death that day.
A wee soup drink does unco weel,
To haud the heart aboon;
It's gude, as lang's a canny chiel
Can stand steeve in his shoon.
But, gin a birkie's owre weel sair'd,
gars him aften stammer
To pleys that bring him to the guard,
And eke the council-chaumir,
Wi' shame that day.
HERDS! blithesome tune your canty reeds,
And welcome to the gowany meads
The pride o' a' the insect thrang,
A stranger to the green sae lang.
Unfauld ilk buss, and ilka brier,
The bounties o' the gleesome year,
To Him whase voice delights the spring;
Whase soughs the saftest slumbers bring.
The trees in simmer cleedin drest,
The hillocks in their greenest vest,
The brawest flow'rs rejoic'd we see
Disclose their sweets, and ca' on thee,
Blithely to skim on wanton wing
Thro' a' the fairy haunts o' Spring.
Whan fields hae gat their dewy gift,
And dawnin breaks upo' the lift,
Then gang your wa's thro' hight and howe,
Seek caller haugh or sunny knowe,
Or ivy craig, or burn-bank brae,
Whare Industry shall bid you gae,
For hiney, or for waxen store,
To ding sad poortith frae the door.
Cou'd feckless creature, man, be wise,
The simmer o' his life to prize,
In winter he might fend fu' bauld,
His eild unkend to nippin cauld;
Yet thir, alas! are antrin fouk,
Wha lade their scape wi' winter stock.
Auld age maist feckly glowrs right dour
Upo' the ailings o' the poor,
Wha houp for nae comforting, save
That dowie, dismal house, the grave.
Then, feeble man, be wise; tak tent
How Industry can fetch content:
Behold the bees whare'er they wing,
Or thro' the bonny bowers o' Spring,
Whare vi'lets or whare roses blaw,
And siller dew-drops nightly fa',
Or whan on open bent they're seen,
On hether hill or thristle green ;
The hiney's still as sweet that flows
Frae thristle cauld, or kendlin rose.
Frae this the human race may learn
Reflection's hiney'd draps to earn,
Whether they tramp life's thorny way,
Or thro' the sunny vineyard stray.
Instructive bee! attend me still;
Owre a' my labours
For thee shall hineysuckles rise,
Wi' ladin to your busy thighs,
And ilka shrub surround
my cell,
Whareon ye like to hum and dwell:
My trees in bourachs owre my ground
Shall fend ye frae ilk blast o' wind :
Nor e'er shall herd, wi' ruthless spike,
Delve out the treasures frae your bike,
But in
my fence be safe, and free
To live, and work, and sing, like me.
Like thee, by Fancy wing'd, the Muse
Scuds ear' and heartsome owre the dews,
Fu' vogie, and fu' blithe to
crap
The winsome flowers frae Nature's lap,
Twinin her livin garlands there,
That lyart Time can ne'er impair.
DAFT gowk, in macaroni dress,
Are ye come here to shaw
Bowden wi' pride o' simmer gloss,
To cast a dash at Reikie's cross;
And glowr at mony a twa-legg'd creature, Flees, braw by art, tho' worms by nature?
Like country laird in city cleeding,
Ye're come to town to lear' good breeding;
To bring ilk darling toast and fashion
In vogue amang the flee creation,
That they, like buskit belles and beaux,
May crook their mou' fu' sour at those
Whase weird is still to creep, alas!
Unnotic'd 'mang the humble grass;
While you, wi' wings new buskit trim,
Can far frae yird and reptiles skim ;
Newfangle grown wi' new-got form,
You soar aboon your mither worm.
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