Forjesket sair, with weary legs, Rattlin the corn out-owre the rigs, Or dealing thro' amang the naigs Their ten hours bite, My awkart muse sair pleads and begs, The tapetless ramfeezl'd hizzie, • That trouth my head is grown right dizzie, Her dowfl excuses pat me mad; • Conscience,' says I, 'ye thowless jad! I'll write, an' that a hearty blaud, • This vera night; So dinna ye affront your trade, But rhyme it right. • Shall bauld Lapraik, the king o' hearts, • Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartes, Roose you sae weel for your deserts, In terms sae friendly, Yet ye'll neglect to shaw your parts, 'An' thank him kindly!' Sae Sae I gat paper in a blink, 'I vow I'll close it; An' if ye winna mak it clink, 6 By Jove I'll prose it!' Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether But I shall scribble down some blether Just clean aff-loof. My worthy friend, ne'er grudge an' carp, Wi' gleesome touch! Ne'er mind how fortune waft an' warp; She's gien me monie a jirt an' fleg, Wi' lyart pow, I'll laugh, an' sing, an' shake my leg, As lang's I dow! Now comes the sax an' twentieth simmer, Frae year to year; But yet, despite the kittle kimmer, I, Rob, am here. Do ye envy the city Gent, Behint a kist to lie and sklent, Or purse-proud, big wi' cent. per cent. And muckle wame, In some bit brugh to represent A Bailie's name? Or is't the paughty, feudal Thane, While caps and bonnets aff are taen, 'O Thou wha gies us each guid gift! 'Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift, Then turn me, if Thou please, adrift 'Thro' Scotland wide; 'Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift, In a' their pride!' Were Were this the charter of our state, 'On pain o' hell be rich an' great,' Damnation then would be our fate, Beyond remead; But, thanks to Heav'n! that's no the gate For thus the royal mandate ran, When first the human race began, The social, friendly, honest man, • Whate'er he be, 'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan, 'An' none but he! O mandate glorious and divine! In glorious light, While sordid sons of Mammon's line Are dark as night. Tho' here they scrape, an' squeeze, an' growl, Their worthless nievefu' of a soul May in some future carcase howl The forest's fright; Or in some day-detesting owl May shun the light. Then |