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M********, R*****, are the boys,
That Heresy can torture ; They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, And cow her measure shorter
By th' head some day.
Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
And here's, for a conclusion,
From this time forth, Confusion:
Or Patronage intrusion,
Like oil, some day.
* New-light is a cant phrase in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously,
CA L F.
TO THE REV. MR.
On his Text, Malachi, ch. iv, ver. 2. " And they shall
go forth, and grow up, like CALVES of the stall.”
Richt, Sir! your text I'll prove it true,
Though Heretics may laugh ;
God knows, an unco Calf!
And should some Patron be so kind,
wi'a kirk, I doubt na, Sir, but then we'll find,
Ye're still as great a Stirk.
But, if the Lover's raptur'd hour
Shall ever be your lot,
You e'er should be a Stot!
Tho', when some kind, connubial Dear,
Your but-and-ben adorns,
A noble head of horns.
And in your lug, most reverend James,
To hear you roar and rowte, Few men o' sense will doubt
claims To rank amang the nowte.
And when ye're number'd wi' the dead,
Below a grassy hillock,
Here lies a famous Bullock!!'
TO THE DEIL,
O Prince! O Chief of many throned Powrs,
O THOU! whatever title suit theo,
Clos'd under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie,
To sçaud poor wretches !
Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
E'en to a deil,
An' hear us squeel!
Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame;
Thou travels far;
Nor blate nor scaur.
Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion, For
prey, a' holes an' corners tryin; Whyles on the strong-wing'd tempest flyin,
Tirling the kirks; Whyles, in the human bosom pryin,
Unseen thou lurks.
I've heard my reverend Graunie say,
Nod to the moon,
Wi' eldrich croon.