THE ORDINATION. For sense they little owe to Frugal Heav'n- I. KILMARNOCK Wabsters fidge an' claw, An' ye wha leather rax an' draw, Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a' An' pour divine libations For joy this day. II. Curst Common-sense, that imp o' h-ll, Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder ;* Wi' dirt this day. Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late Reverend and worthy Mr L. to the Laigh Kirk. III. Mak haste an' turn King David owre, O' double verse come gie us four, This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure, For Heresey is in her pow'r, And gloriously she'll whang her Wi' pith this day. IV. Come, let a proper text be read, Or Phineast drove the murdering blade, Or Zipporah, the scauldin jade, Was like a bluidy tiger I' th' inn that day. V. There, try his mettle on the creed, That Stipend is a carnal weed He taks but for the fashion; * Genesis, ch. ix. ver. 22. + Numbers, ch. xxv. ver. 8. Exodus, ch. iv. ver. 25. Especial, rams that cross the breed, Spare them nae day. VI. Now auld Kilmarnock cock thy tail, Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale, Because thy pasture's scanty; For lapfu's large o' gospel kail Shall fill thy crib in plenty, An' runts o' grace the pick aud wale, No gi'en by way o' dainty, But ilka day. VII. 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 thairms be tryin; Oh, rare! to see our elbucks wheep, An' a' like lamb-tails flyin Fu' fast this day! VIII. Lang Patronage, wi' rod o' airn, Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin, As lately F-nw-ck, sair forfairn, Our Patron, honest man! Glencairn, He's wal'd us out a true ane, And sound this day.. IX. Now R******* harangue nae mair, For there they'll think you clever; Or, nae reflection on your leàr, Or to the N-th-rt-n repair, Aff-hand this day. X.. M***** and you were just a match, And ay' he catch'd the tither wretch, But now his honour maun detach, XI. See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays There, Learning, with his Greekish face, And Common Sense is gaun, she says, To mak to Jamie Beattie Her plaint this day. XII. But there's Morality himsel, Embracing all opinions ; Hear, how he gies the tither yell, Now there they're packed aff to hell, And banish'd our dominions, Henceforth this day. XIII. O happy day! rejoice, rejoice! Shall here nae mair find quarter; And cow her measure shorter By th' head some day D 4 |