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But bring a Scotsman frae his hill, Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, Say, such is royal George's will,
An' there's the foe, He has nae thought but how to kill
Twa at a blow.
Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him; Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him ; Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gies him;
An' when he fa's, His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him
In faint huzzas.
Sages their solemn een may steek
In clime and season ;
I'll tell the reason.
Scotland, amy auld, respected Mither! Tho' whiles ye moistify your leather, Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather,
Ye tine your dam; Freedom and Whisky gang thegither!
THE THE HOLY FAIR.*
A robe of seeming truth and trust
Hid crafty Observation;
The dirk of Defamation :
Dye-varying on the pigeon ;
UPON a simmer Sunday morn,
When Nature's face is fair,
An' snuff the caller air,
Wi' glorious light was glintin ;
Fu’ sweet that day.
* Holy Fair is a common phrase in the West of Scotland for a sacramental occasion.
As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad,
To see a scene sae gay,
Cam skelpin up the way;
. But ane wi' lyart lining;
The twa appear'd like sisters twin,
In feature, form, an' claes !
An' sour as ony slaes :
As light as ony lambie,
Fu' kind that day.
Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, • Sweet lass,
• I think ye seem to ken me; • I'm sure I've seen that bonie face,
But yet I canna name ye.'
Quo' Quo' she, an' laughin as she spak,
An’taks me by the hands, • Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck
gi’en . Of a' the ten commands
• A screed some day.
My name is Fun-your cronie dear, • The nearest friend
ye • An' this is Superstition here, • An' that's Hypocrisy. to
At them this day.'
• I'm gaun
Quoth I, “With a' my heart, I'll do't ;
• I'll get my Sunday's sark on, • An' meet you on the holy spot;
• Faith we'se hae fine remarkin! Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time
An' soon I made me ready;
In droves that day.
Here farmers gash, in ridin graith
Gaed hoddin by their cotters; There, swankies
in braw braid-claith Are springin o'er the gutters. The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang,
In silks an' scarlets glitter ; Wi' sweet-milk and cheese, in monie a whang, An' farls bak'd wi' butter
Fu'crump that day.
When by the plate we set our nose,
Weel heaped up wi' ha' pence,
An' we maun draw our tippence.
On ev'ry side they're gathrin, Some carrying dales, some chairs an' stools, An' some are busy blethrin
Right loud that day.
Here stands a shed to send the show'rs,
An' screen our countra Gentry,