At slaps the billies halt a blink,
Till lasses strip their shoon:
Wi' faith and hope, an' love an' drink,
They're a' in famous tune,

For crack that day.

XXVII.

How monie hearts this day converts,

O' sinners and o' lasses!

Their hearts o' stane, gin night are gane,
As saft as onie flesh is.
There's some are fou o' love divine;
There's some are fou o' brandy;
An' monie jobs that day begin,

May end in Houghmagandie
Some ither day.

THE ORDINATION.

For sense they little owre to frugal Heav'nTo please the Mob they hide the little giv'n.

I.

KILMARNOCK Wabsters fidge an' claw; pour your creeshie nations;

An'

An' ye wha leather rax an' draw,

Of a' denominations,

Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a',
An' there tak up your stations;

Then aff to B-gb-'s in a raw,

An' pour divine libations

For joy this day.

II.

Curst Common Sense, that imp o' h-ll,
Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder;*

But O

aft made her yell,

An' R

This day 'M

sair misca'd her;

takes the flail,

And he's the boy will blaud her!
He'll clap a shangan on her tail,

An' set the bairns to daub her

Wi' dirt this day.

III.

Mak haste an' turn King David owre
An, lilt wi' holy clangor;
O' double verse come gie us four,
An' skirl up the Bangor;
This day the Kirk kicks up a stour,

Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,
For heresy is in her pow'r,

An' gloriously she'll wang her

Wi' pith this day.

IV.

Come, let a proper text be read,
An' touch it aff wi' vigour,

How graceless Ham* leugh at his Dad,
Which made Canaan a niger;
Or Phineast drove the murdering blade,
Wi' wh-re-abhorring rigour;

Or Zipporaht, the scaulding jade,
Was like a bluidy tiger

I thinn that day.

*Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late reverend and worthy Mr. L, to the Laigh Kirk.

Genesis, c. ix. ver. 22.
Exodus, ch. iv. ver. 25.

Numbers, c. xxv. ver. 8.

V.

There, try his mettle on the creed,
And bind him down wi' caution,
That Stipend is a carnal weed
He taks but for the fashion;
And gie him o'er the flock, to feed,
And punish each transgression;
Especial, rams that cross the breed,
Gie them sufficient threshin,

Spare them nae day.

VI.

Now auld Kilmarnock cock thy tail,
And toss thy horns fu' canty;
Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale,
Because thy pasture's scanty;

For lapfu's large o' gospel kail
Shall fill thy crib in plenty,

An' runts o' grace the pick and wale,
No gien by way o' dainty,

But ilka day.

VII.

Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep,
To think upon our Zion;

And hing our fiddles up to sleep,
Like baby-clouts a-dryin

Come screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep,
And o'er the thairms be tryin;

Oh, rare! to see our elbucks wheep,
Án' a' like lamb-tails flying

Fu' fast this day!

VIII.

Lang Patronage, wi' rod o' airn,
Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin,
As lately F-nw-ck, sair forfairn,
Has proven to its ruin:

Our Patron, honest man! Glencairn,
He saw mischief was brewin:
And, like a godly elect bairn,
He's wal'd us out a true ane,

Now R

And sound this day,

IX.

harangue nae mair,

But steek your gab for ever:
Or try the wicked town of Ayr,
For there they'll think you clever;
Or, nae reflection on your lear,
Ye may commence a Shaver;
Or to the N-th-rt-n repair,

M

And turn a carpet weaver

Aff-hand this day.

X.

and you were just a match,

We never had sic twa drones:

Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,
Just like a winkin baudrons:
And ay he catch'd the tither wretch,
To fry them in his caudrons:
But now his honor maun detach,
Wi' a' his brimstone squadrous,
Fast, fast this day.

XI.

See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes
She's swingein thro' the city:
Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays?
I vow it's unco pretty:

There, Learning, with his Greekish face,
Grunts out some Latin ditty;

And Common Sense is

gaun, she says,

To mak to Jamie Beattie

Her plaint this day.

XII.

But there's Morality himsel,
Embracing all opinions;

Hear, how he gies the tither yell,
Between his twa companions;
See, now she peels the skin an' fell,
As ane were peeling onions!

Now there they're packed aff to h-ll,
And banish'd our dominions,

Henceforth this day.

XIII.

O happy day! rejoice, rejoice!
Come, bouse about the porter!
Morality's demure decoys,

Shall here nae mair find quarter:
R- are the boys,
That Heresy can torture:

M'

They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse,

And cow her measure shorter

By the head some day.

XIV.

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
And here's for a conclusion,
To every New Light mother's son,
From this time forth, Confusion:
If mair they deave us with their din,
Or Patronage intrusion,

We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin,
We'll rin them aft in fusion

Like oil, some day.