I've sent you here by Johnie Simpson,
Twa sage philosophers to glimpse on;
Smith, wi his sympathetic feeling,
An' Reid, to common sense appealing,
Philosophers have fought an' wrangled,
An' meikle Greek an' Latin mangled,
Till wi' their logic jargon tir'd,
An' in the depth of science mir'd,
To common sense they now appeal,
What wives an' wabsters see an' feel;
But, hark ye, friend, I charge you strictly,
Peruse them an' return them quickly;
For now I'm grown sae cursed douse,
I pray an' ponder butt the house,
My shins, my lane, I there sit roastin,
Perusing Bunyan, Brown, and Boston;
Till by an' by, if I haud on,
I'll grunt a real Gospel groan:
Already I begin to try it,
To cast my een up like a pyet,
When by the gun she tumbles o'er,
Flutt'ring an' gasping in her gore;
Sae shortly you shall see me bright,
A burning an' a shining light.

RECITATIVO.

WHEN lyart leaves bestrew the yird,
Or, wavering like the bauckie* bird,
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast:
When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,
And infant frosts begin to bite,

In hoary cranreugh drest;
Ae night at e'en, a merry core
O' randie gangrel bodies,

In Poosic-Nansie's held the splore,
To drink their ora duddies:

Wi' quaffing and laughing,
They ranted and they sang;
Wi' jumping and thumping
The vera girdle rang.

First, niest the fire, in auld red rags,
Ane sa, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,
And knapsack a' in order;
His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi' usquebae and blankets warm,
She blinket on her sodger;
And aye he gies the tousie drab
The tither skelpin kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab,
Just like an a'mous dish;

Ilk smack still, did crack still,
Just like a cadger's whup,
Then staggering, and swaggering,
He roar'd this ditty up-

My 'prenticeship Ipast where my leader breath'd

his last,

When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram ;

I serv'd out my trade when the gallant gaine was play'd,

And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the drum. Lal de daudle, &c.

I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt'ries, [limb: And there I left for witness an arm and a Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me,

I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of the drum. Lal de daudle, &c.

And now, tho' I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg,

And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum, I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle, and my callet,

As when I us'd in scarlet to follow the drum. Lal de daudle, &c.

What tho' with hoary locks, I must stand the windy shocks,

Beneath the woods and rocks, oftentimes for a home;

When the tother bag I sell, and the tother bottle tell,

I could meet a troop of h-ll at the sound of the drum.

RECITATIVO.

He ended; and the kebars sheuk
Aboon the chorus roar;

While frighted rattans backward leuk,
And seek the benmost bore:

A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,
He skirl'd out encore!
But up arose the martial's chuck,
And laid the loud uproar.

AIR.

TUNE-"Soldier Laddie."

I ONCE was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when, And still my delight is in proper young men ;