TO THE PRINCIPAL AND PROFESSORS

OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREWS ON THEIR SUPERB

TREAT TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.*

ST. ANDREWS town may look right gawsy;
Na grass will grow upon her cawsey,
Nor wa'-flower o' a yellow dye,
Glowr dowie owre her ruins high;
Sin' Samy's head, weel pang'd wi' lear,
Has seen the Alma Mater there.
Regents, my winsome billy boys!
'Bout him you've made an unco noise;
Nae doubt for him your bells wad clink
To find him upon Eden's † brink;
And a' things nicely set in order,
Wad keep him on the Fifan border,
I'se warrant, now, frae France and Spain
Baith cooks and scullions, mony ane,
Wad gar the pats and kettles tingle
Around the college kitchen ingle,
To fleg frae a' your craigs the roup
Wi' reekin' het and creeshy soup;
And snails and puddocks mony hunder
Wad beekin' lie the hearth-stane under;
Wi' roast and boil'd and a' kin-kind,
To heat the body, cool the mind.

But hear, my lads! gin I'd been there,
How I wad trimm'd the bill o' fare!

For ne'er sic surly wight as he

Had met wi' sic respect frae me.

*The professors entertained us with a very good dinner. Present: Murison, Shaw, Cooke, Hill, Haddo, Watson, Flint, Brown.-Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides, Sub Thursday, 19th August (1773).

A river near St. Andrews.

Mind ye what Sam, the lying loun,
Has in his Dictionar laid down?-
That aits, in England, are a feast
To cow and horse, and sicken beast;

*

While in Scots ground this growth was common
To gust the gab o' man and woman.
Tak tent, ye regents! then, and hear
My list o' gudely hameil gear,
Sic as hae aften rax'd the wame
O' blyther fallows mony time:

Mair hardy, souple, steeve, and swank,
Than ever stood on Samy's shank.

Imprimis, then, a haggis fat,
Weel tottled in a seethin' pat,

Wi' spice and ingans weel ca'd through,
Had help'd to gust the stirrah's mou',
And placed itsel' in truncher clean
Before the gilpy's glowrin' een.

Secundo, then, a gude sheep's head,
Whase hide was singit, never flead,
And four black trotters clad wi' girsle,
Bedown his throat had learn'd to hirsle.
What think ye, neist, o' gude fat brose
To clag his ribs? a dainty dose!
And white and bluidy puddins routh,
To gar the doctor skirl, O Drouth!
When he could never hope to merit

A cordial glass o' reamin' claret,

But thraw his nose, and brize, and pegh,
Owre the contents o' sma' ale quegh.

Then let his wisdom girn and snarl

Owre a weel-tostit girdle farl,

*This is literally "surly Sam's" opprobrious definition of the word "oats " embraced in the first, and retained in several of the earlier editions of his yet marvellous Dictionary; although in course of time -perhaps after the witty Scots lord remarked, in retaliation, "And where will you see such men and such horses?"-it was silently suppressed.

And learn, that, maugre o' his wame,
Ill bairns are aye best heard at hame.

Drummond, lang syne, o' Hawthornden,
The wilyest and best o' men,

Has gi'en you dishes ane or mae,
That wad hae gar'd his grinders play,
Not to "Roast Beef," old England's life,
But to the auld "East Nook o' Fife," *
Where Craillian crafts could weel hae gi'en
Skate rumples to hae clear'd his een;
Then, neist, when Samy's heart was faintin',
He'd lang for skate to mak him wanton.
Ah, willawins for Scotland now!
When she maun stap ilk birky's mou'
Wi' eistacks, grown, as 'twere in pet,
In foreign land, or green-house het,
When cog o' brose and cutty spoon
Is a' our cottar childer's boon,

Wha through the week, till Sunday's peal,
Toil for pease-cods and gude lang kail.

Devall then, sirs, and never send

For dainties to regale a friend,

Or, like a torch at baith ends burnin',

Your house will soon grow mirk and mournin'!

What's this I hear some cynic say? †

Robin, ye loun! it's na fair play;

Is there nae ither subject rife

To clap your thumb upon but Fife?

cornin',

Gie owre, young man! you'll meet
your
Than caption waur, or charge o' hornin'.
Some canker'd, surly, sour-mou'd carlin,
Bred near the abbey o' Dumfarline,

*Alluding to two tunes under these titles.

The poet alludes to a gentleman in Dunfermline, who sent him a challenge, being highly offended at the concluding reflection in the "Expedition to Fife.'

Your shouthers yet may gie a lounder,
And be o' verse the mal-confounder.

Come on, ye blades! but, ere ye tulzie,
Or hack our flesh wi' sword or gullie,
Ne'er shaw your teeth, nor look like stink,
Nor owre an empty bicker blink:
What weets the wizen and the wame,
Will mend your prose, and heal my rhyme.

ELEGY ON JOHN HOGG,

LATE PORTER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREWS.

*

DEATH, what's ado? the de'il be licket,
Or wi' your stang you ne'er had pricket,
Or our auld Alma Mater tricket

O' poor John Hogg,

And trail'd him ben through your mirk wicket,
As dead's a log.

*In a note respecting this interesting functionary, communicated by John Buddo, Esq., Writer, St. Andrews, to Dr. Grosart, in or about 1851, John is described as a great favourite with the students. He was what is known in Scotland as a "bien bodie," being proprietor of a considerable patch of land in the neighbourhood, as well as the owner of some house property in North Street, St. Andrews. While regularly careful, even to the verge of parsimoniousness, his "winsome Kate," on the other hand, was rather inclined to be "the leddy." At one time Mrs. Hogg wanted to get a black silk bonnet; but John said, "Na, what mair wad the regents' wives hae?" meaning the Professors, who were then called regents. She often further, it was said, urged John to allow her tea, which, in those days, was not every one's beverage; but in this she was indulged seldom, and when the outlay was made he pinched her in the article of white bread, holding her strictly to bannocks or oat cakes. "Winsome Kate," whose name was Catharine Gourlay, after "death John's haffit ga'e a clout,' married Dean of Guild Landale, a dyer in St. Andrews. She survived Mr. Landale also, and after his death kept a sewing school.

Now ilka glaikit scholar loun
May daunder wae wi' duddy gown;
Kate Kennedy * to dowie crune

May mourn and clink,

And steeples o' Saunt Andrew's town
To yird may sink.

Sin' Pauly Tam,† wi' canker'd snout,
First held the students in about,
To wear their claes as black as soot,
They ne'er had reason,

Till death John's haffit gae a clout
Sae out o' season.

When regents met at common schools,
He taught auld Tam to hale the dules,
And eident to row right the bowls,
Like ony emmack;

He kept us a' within the rules
Strict academic.

Heh! wha will tell the students now
To meet the Pauly cheek for chow,
When he, like frightsome wirrikow,
Had wont to rail,

And set our stamacks in a low,
Or we turn'd tail?

Ah, Johnny! aften did I grumble
Frae cozy bed fu' ear' to tumble,
When art and part I'd been in some ill,
Troth, I was swear;

His words they brodit like a wumill
Frae ear to ear.

* A bell in the college steeple.

t

A name given by the students to one of the members of the University.