But Queen N*******, of a different complexion, When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction, Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pretence, Not to shew her respect, but to save the expence. ADDRESS TO AN ILLEGITIMATE CHILD. THOU's welcome wean, mishanter fa* me, My sweet wee lady, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me Wee image of my bonny Betty, As a' the priests had seen me get thee What tho' they ca' me fornicator, An auld wife's tongue 's a feckless matter Sweet fruit o' mony a merry dint, Sin' thou came to the warl asklent, Which fools may scoff at ; In my last plack thy part's be in't- An' if thou be what I wad hae thee, ... If thou be spar'd; Thro' a' thy childish years I'll e'e thee, Gude grant that thou may ay inherit "Twill please me mair to hear an' see't, ELEGY ON THE YEAR 1788. FOR Lords or Kings I dinna mourn, But, oh! prodigious to reflect, A Towmont, Sirs, is gane to wreck! Of what enjoyments thou has reft us ! The Spanish empire's tint a head, An' my auld teethless Bawtie's dead; The toolzie's teugh 'tween Pitt an' Fox, An' our gudewife's wee birdy cocks; The tane is game, a bluidy devil, But to the hen-birds unco civil; The tither's dour, has nae sic breedin, But better stuff ne'er claw'd a midden! Ye ministers, come mount the pulpit, An' cry till ye be hearse an' rupit; For Eighty-eight he wish'd you weel, An' gied you a' baith gear an' meal ; E'en mony a plack, an' mony a peck, Ye ken yoursels for little feck! Ye bonny lasses dight your een, For some o' you hae tint a frien : In Eighty-eight, ye ken, was ta'en What ye'll ne'er hae to gie again. Observe the very nowt an' sheep, How dowff an' dowie now they creep Nay, even the yirth itsel does cry, For Embro' wells are grutten dry. O Eighty-nine, thou's but a bairn, An' no owre auld, I hope, to learn! Thou beardless boy, I pray tak care, Thou now has got thy Daddy's chair, Nae hand-cuff'd, mizzl'd, haff-shackl'd Regent, But, like himsel, a full free agent. Be sure ye follow out the plan Nae waur than he did, honest man ! EPIGRA M. [BURNS, accompanied by a friend, having gone to Inverary at a time when some company were there on a visit to his Grace the DUKE of ARGYLL, finding himself and his companion entirely neglected by the Inn-keeper, whose whole attention seemed to be occupied with the visitors of his Grace, expressed his disapprobation of the incivility with which they were treated in the following lines.] WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here, I pity much his case, Unless he come to wait upon The Lord their God his Grace. There's naething here but Highland pride, 'Twas surely in an anger. VERSES WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE INN AT CARRON. WE cam na here to view your warks In hopes to be mair wise, But only, lest we gang to hell, It may be nae surprise: But whan we tirl'd at your door, Your porter dought na hear us; Sae may, shou'd we to hell's yetts come, At a Meeting of the DUMFRIESSHIRE VOLUNTEERS, held to commemorate the anniversary of RODNEY'S Victory, April 12th, 1782, BURNS was called upon for a Song, instead of which he delivered the following lines extempore. INSTEAD of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast, Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost: That we lost, did I say, nay, by heav'n that we found, For their fame it shall last while the world goes round. The next in succession, I'll give you the King, Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing; And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution, As built on the base of the great Revolution; |