There let him bouse, and deep carouse, Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, Till he forgets his loves or debts, -SOLOMON'S PROVERBS xxxi. 6, 7. LET other poets raise a fracas 'Bout vines, and wines, and drunken Bacchus, I sing the juice Scotch beare can mak us, O thou, my Muse! guid auld Scotch drink, In glorious faem, Inspire me, till I lisp and wink, To sing thy name! But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood, Food fills the wame, and keeps us livin'; The wheels o' life gae down-hili, scrievin',5 Thou clears the head o' doited Lear; At's weary toil; Thou even brightens dark Despair, Wi' gloomy smile. Aft clad in massy siller weed," Wi' gentles thou erects thy head; Yet humbly kind in time of need The poor man's wing* His wee drap parritch, or his breat Then kitchens- ine Thou art the life o' public harts; By thee inspired, When gaping they besiege the tents, † That merry night we get the corn in, In cog or bicker, And just a wee drap spiritual burn in, When Vulcan gies his bellows breath, I' the lugget caup!5 Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel; Till block and studdie ring and reel, Wi' dinsome clamour. When skirlin' weanies' see the light, Nae howdy gets a social night, When neibors anger at a plea, And just as wud as wud 1 can be, How easy can the barley-bree Cement the quarrel ! It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee To taste the barrel. Alake! that e'er my Muse has reason To wytell her countrymen wi' treason! 1 Relishest. #Wooden vessels. Toothsome sugar. • Implements. Wooden cup with ears. 6 The blacksmith. 7 Shouting children. 8 Awkward fools. Ale is frequently taken with porridge instead of milk. 9 Midwife. 10 Mad. 11 Charge. The refreshment at out-door communions. (See "Holy Fair.") But mony daily weet their weason1 And hardly, in a winter's season, E'er spier2 her price. Wae worth that brandy, burning trash! And sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well! Poor plackless devils like mysel, Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,6 May gravels round his blether wrench, Out-owre a glass o' whisky punch O whisky! soul o' plays and pranks ! When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, Haud up thy han', deil! ance, twice, thrice! And bake them up in brunstane pies For poor damn'd drinkers. Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still THE following is from the commonplace-book of the poet, and is supposed to relate to his first serious error. Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace, That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish, That to our folly or our guilt we owe. In every other circumstance, the mind Has this to say-"It was no deed of mine;" Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart Can reason down its agonising throbs; ANSWER TO A POETICAL EPISTLE, SENT TO THE AUTHOR BY A TAILOR. THE following is the poet's reply to a rhymed epistle from a tailor near Mauchline, censuring him for his irregular behaviour. WHAT ails ye now, ye lousie bitch, To thrash my back at sic a pitch? Losh, man! hae mercy wi' your natch, Your bodkin's bauld, I didna suffer half sae much Frae Daddie Auld. What though at times, when I grow crouse,2 I gie the dames a random pouse, Is that enough for you to souse3 Your servant sae? Gae mind your seam, ye prick-the-louse And jag-the-flae. 1 Abundance. 2 Jolly. 3 Scold. auth. But fegs,1 the session says I maun Clean heels owre gowdy, And sairly thole2 their mither's ban This leads me on, to tell for sport, Cried three times-"Robin! Ye're blamed for jobbin'." Wi' pinch I put a Sunday's face on, I scorn'd to lie ; And syne Mess John, beyond expression, A furnicator-1oon he call'd me, And said my faut frae bliss expell'd me; "But what the matter?" Quo' I, "I fear unless ye geld me, I'll ne'er be better." "Geld you!" quo' he, "and what for no? You should remember To cut it aff-and what for no Your dearest member?" "Na, na," quo' I, "I'm no for that, |