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His piercing words, like Highland swords,
Divide the joints and marrow;

His talk o' hell, whare devils dwell,

Our vera sauls does harrow


Wi' fright that day.

A vast, unbottomed, boundless pit,
Filled fou o' lowin' brunstane,

Wha's ragin' flame, and scorchin' heat,
Wad melt the hardest whunstane !
The half-asleep start up wi' fear,
And think they hear it roarin',
When presently it does appear
"Twas but some neebor snorin',
Asleep that day.

'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell
How monie stories past,

And how they crowded to the yill,
When they were a' dismist:



How drink gaed round, in cogs and caups, pails
Amang the forms and benches:

And cheese and bread, frae women's laps,
Was dealt about in lunches,

And dauds that day.


In comes a gaucy, gash guidwife, fat— talkative And sits down by the fire,

Syne draws her kebbuck and her knife; cheese

1 Shakspeare's Hamlet. - B.

The lasses they are shyer.

The auld guidmen, about the grace,
Frae side to side they bother,

Till some ane by his bonnet lays,
And gies them't like a tether,
Fu' lang that day.

soil with meal

Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass,
Or lasses that hae naething!
Sma' need has he to say a grace,
Or melvie his braw claithing!
Oh wives, be mindfu' ance yoursel'
How bonny lads ye wanted,·
And dinna, for a kebbuck-heel,

Let lasses be affronted

On sic a day!

Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattlin' tow,

Begins to jow and croon;


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Some swagger hame, the best they dow,

Some wait the afternoon.

At slaps the billies halt a blink,

Till lasses strip their shoon :

Wi' faith and hope, and love and drink,

They're a' in famous tune

For crack that day.

How monie hearts this day converts

O' sinners and o' lasses!

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Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane,

As saft as ony flesh is.

There's some are fou o' love divine;

There's some are fou o' brandy ;

And monie jobs that day begin

May end in houghmagandy
Some ither day.



A'YE wha live by sowps o' drink,
A' ye wha live by crambo-clink,
A' ye wha live and never think,

Come, mourn wi' me!
Our billie's gien us a' a jink,1
And owre the sea.

Lament him a' ye rantin' core,
Wha dearly like a random-splore,
Nae mair he'll join the merry roar
In social key;

For now he's ta'en anither shore,

And owre the sea!

1 "Our brother has eluded us all."



Auld cantie Kyle may weepers wear,

And stain them wi' the saut, saut tear; "Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear,

In flinders flee;

He was her laureate monie a year,
That's owre the sea.

He saw misfortune's cauld nor-west
Lang mustering up a bitter blast;
A jillet brak his heart at last,
Ill may she be !

So, took a berth afore the mast,
And owre the sea.

To tremble under Fortune's cummock,





On scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock, meal and water Wi' his proud, independent stomach,

Could ill agree ;

So row't his hurdies in a hammock, rolled — loins And owre the sea.

He ne'er was gien to great misguiding,
Yet coin his pouches wadna bide in;
Wi' him it ne'er was under hiding-
He dealt it free:

The Muse was a' that he took pride in,
That's owre the sea.

Jamaica bodies, use him weel,

And hap him in a cozie biel: wrap-snug shelter

Ye'll find him aye a dainty chiel,
And fou o' glee;

He wadna wranged the very deil,
That's owre the sea.

Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie! comrade
Your native soil was right ill-willie ;
But may ye flourish like a lily,
Now bonnilie!

I'll toast ye in my hinmost gillie,
Though owre the sea!



In a different spirit, Burns wrote an epitaph for himself a confession of his errors so solemn and so touching, as to take the sting from every other comment on the subject.

Is there a whim-inspirèd fool,

Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to


Let him draw near;

And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.



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