O happy is that man an' blest!
Nae wonder that it pride him!
Wha's ain dear lass, that he likes best,
Comes clinkin down beside him!
Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back,
He sweetly does compose him;
Which, by degrees, slips round her neck
An's loof1 upon her bosom

Unkend that day..

Now a' the congregation o'er
Is silent expectation;

For Moodie speels3 the holy door,
Wi' tidings o' damnation.
Should Hornie, as in ancient days,
'Mang sons o' God present him,
The vera sight o' Moodie's face,
To's ain het hame had sent him
Wi' fright that day.

Hear how he clears the points o' faith
Wi' rattlin an' thumpin!

Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,
He's stampin an' he's jumpin!
His lengthen'd chin, his turn'd-up snout,
His eldritch squeel an' gestures,
O how they fire the heart devout,
Like cantharidian plasters,

On sic a day!

But, hark! the tent has chang'd its voice;
There's peace and rest nae langer:

For a' the real judges rise,

They canna sit for anger.

Smith opens out his cauld harangues,

On practice and on morals;

An' aff the godly pour in thrangs,
To gie the jars an' barrels

A lift that day.

Like Socrates or Antonine,
Or some auld pagan Heathen,
The moral man he does define,
But ne'er a word o' faith in

That's right that day.

In guid time comes an antidote
Against sic poison'd nostrum ;
For Peebles, frae the Water-fit,
Ascends the holy rostrum:
See, up he's got the word o' God,
An' meek an' mim2 has view'd it,
While Common Sense has ta'en the road,
An' aff, an' up the Cowgate,3

Fast, fast, that day.

Wee Miller, neist, the Guard relieves,

An' Orthodoxy raibles,5

Tho' in his heart he weel believes,

An' thinks it auld wives' fables:
But, faith the birkie wants a Manse,
So cannilie he hums them;

Altho' his carnal wit an' sense

Like hafflins-ways o'ercomes him
At times that day.

Now, butt an' ben,7 the Change-house fills,
Wi' yill-caups Commentators:

Here's crying out for bakes an' gills,
An' there the pint-stowp clatters;
While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang,
Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture,

They raise a din, that, in the end,

Is like to breed a rupture

O' wrath that day.

Leeze me on Drink! it gie's us mair
Than either School or College:
It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair,
It pangs10 us fou o' Knowledge.
Be't whisky gill, or penny wheep,
Or ony stronger potion,

It never fails, on drinking deep,
To kittle11 up our notion

By night or day.

1 Minister of Newtown-upon-Ayr, of which the Water-fit was another name. 2 Prim. 3 A street so called, which faces the tent in [Mauchline.]—R. B. Assistant-preacher at Auchenleck. 5 Rattles nonsense. 6 Clever fellow. 7 Kitchen and parlour. 8 Ale-cup. 9 Biscuits. 10 Crams. 11 Tickle.

The lads an' lasses, blythely bent
To mind baith saul an' body,
Sit round the table, weel content,
An' steer1 about the toddy.

On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk,
They're makin observations;

While some are cozie i' the neuk,
An' formin assignations

To meet some day.

But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts,
Till a' the hills are rairin,

An' echoes back return the shouts ;
Black Russel is na spairin:

His piercing words, like Highlan swords,
Divide the joints an' marrow;

His talk o' Hell, whare devils dwell,

Our vera

"sauls does harrow 13

Wi' fright that day.

A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit,
Fill'd fou o' lowin1 brunstane,
Wha's raging flame, an' scorching heat,
Wad melt the hardest whun-stane !5
The half asleep start up wi' fear,
An' think they hear it roarin,
When presently it does appear,
'Twas but some neebor snorin
Asleep that day.

'Twad be owre lang a tale, to tell
How monie stories past,
An' how they crowded to the yill,
When they were a' dismist :
How drink gaed round, in cogs an'
Amang the furms and benches;

caups,

An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps,

Was dealt about in lunches

An' dawds that day.

6

In comes a gaucie, gash Guidwife,

An' sits down by the fire,

Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife,

The lasses they are shyer.

1 Stir.

Minister of Kilmarnock, and described as equally awful in look and

The auld Guidmen, about the grace,
Frae side to side they bother,
Till some ane by his bonnet lays,
An' gi'es them't like a tether,
Fu' lang that day.

Waesucks!' for him that gets nae lass,
Or lasses that hae naething!
Sma' need has he to say a grace,
Or melvie2 his braw claithing!
O Wives be mindfu', ance yoursel
How bonnie lads ye wanted,
An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel,
Let lasses be affronted

On sic a day!

Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattling tow,
Begins to jow3 an' croon;

Some swagger hame, the best they dow,"
Some wait the afternoon.

At slaps the billies halt a blink,
Till lasses strip their shoon :

Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink,
They're a' in famous tune

For crack that day.

How monie hearts this day converts

O' sinners and o' lasses!

Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane
As saft as ony flesh is.

There's some are fou o' love divine,
There's some are fou o' brandy;

An' monie jobs that day begin,

1 Waes me!

May end in Houghmagandie
Some ither day.7

2 Soil.

5 Gates.

7 Sharp diseases require sharp have been of considerable use.

DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK.1

A TRUE STORY.

SOME books are lies frae end to end,
And some great lies were never penn'd:
Ev'n Ministers, they hae been kenn'd,
In holy rapture,

A rousing whid,2 at times, to vend,

And nail't wi' Scripture.

But this that I am gaun to tell,
Which lately on a night befell,
Is just as true's the Deil's in hell

Or Dublin city:

That e'er he nearer comes oursel

'S a muckle pity.

The Clachan yill had made me canty,
I wasna fou, but just had plenty :
I stacher'd' whyles, but yet took tent ay
To free the ditches;

An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes, kenn'd ay
Frae' ghaists an' witches.

The rising moon began to glowr
The distant Cumnock hills out-owre ;
To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r,

I set mysel;

But whether she had three or four,
I cou'd na tell.

I

was come round about the hill,
And todlin down on Willie's mill,
Setting my staff, wi' a' my skill,

To keep me sicker ;4
Tho' leeward whyles, against my will,
I took a bicker.5

I there wi' SoLething did forgather,6
That put me in an eerie swither;7
An' awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouther,

Clear-dangling, hang:

A three-taed leisters on the ither

Lay, large anʼ lang.

1 John Wilson, schoolmaster of Tarbolton, who excited the anger of Burns by talking of his medical skill. Wilson sold medicine and gave advice gratis. Fib. 3 Staggered. 4 Steady. 5 A short course.

6 Meet.

7 Frighted wavering.

8 Three-pronged dart.