THE

HOLY FAIR*.

A robe of seeming truth and trust

Hid crafty Observation;

And secret hung, with poison'd crust,
The dirk of Defamation:

A mask, that like the gorget, show'd
Dye varying on the pigeon;
And for a mantle large and broad,
He wrapt him in Religion.

HYPOCRISY A LA MODE,

UPON a simmer Sunday morn,
When Nature's face is fair,
I walked forth to view the corn,
And snuff the cauler air:

The rising sun owre Galston muirs
Wi' glorious light was glintin;
The hares were hirplin down the furs,
The lavrocks they were chantin
Fu' sweet that day.

As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad,

To see a scene sae gay,

* Holy Fair is a common phrase in the West of Scotland for a sacramental occasion.

Three hizzies, early at the road,
Cam skelpin up the way:

Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black,
But ane wi' lyart lining:

The third, that gaed a wee a-back,
Was in the fashion shining,

Fu' gay that day.

The twa appear'd like sisters twin,
In feature, form, and claes:
Their visage wither'd, lang, and thin,
And sour as ony slaes :

The third cam up, hap-stap-and-loup,
As light as ony lambie,

And wi' a kurchie low did stoop,

As soon as e'er she saw me,

Fu' kind that day.

Wi' bannet aff, quoth I, 'Sweet lass, 'I think ye seem to ken me; 'I'm sure I've seen that bonny face, 'But yet I canna name ye.' Quo' she, and laughin as she spak, And taks me by the hands,

'Ye, for my sake, have gi'en the feck

"Of a' the ten commands

'A screed some day.

My name is Fun-your cronie dear,

'The nearest friend you hae;

And this is Superstition here,
And that's Hypocrisy:

'I'm gaun to ********* Holy Fair,
To spend an hour in daffin:

'Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair, 'We will get famous laughin

At them this day.'

Quoth I, 'Wi' a' my heart I'll do't:
'I'll get my Sunday's sark on,
And meet you on the haly spot;
'Faith we'll hae fine remarkin!'
Then I gaed hame at crowdie time,
And soon I made me ready;

For roads were clad frae side to side
Wi' mony a weary body,

In droves that day.

Here farmers gash, in ridin graith,

Gaed hoddin by their cotters;

There swankies young, in braw braid claith, Are springin o'er the gutters.

The lasses, skelpin barefoot, thrang,

In silks and scarlets glitter;

Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in mony a whang

And farls bak'd wi' butter,

Fu' crump that day.

When by the plate we set our nose,
Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence,

A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws,
And we maun draw our tippence.
Then in we go to see the show,

On every side they're gath'rin;

Some carrying dales, some chairs and stools, And some are busy bleth'rin

Right loud that day.

Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs,
And screen our country gentry;
There Racer Jess, and twa-three w
Are blinkin at the entry.
Here sits a raw o' tittlin jades,

Wi' heaving breast and bare neck;
And there a batch o' wabster lads,
Blackguarding frae Kck
For fun this day.

Here some are thinkin on their sins,
And some upon their claes;
Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins,
Anither sighs and prays:

On this hand sits a chosen swatch,
Wi' screw'd up grace-proud faces;
On that, a set o' chaps at watch,
Thrang winkin on the lasses

To chairs that day.

happy is that man and blest,
Nae wonder that it pride him!

Wha's ain dear lass, that he likes best,
Comes clinkin down beside him!

Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back,
He sweetly does compose him,
Which, by degrees, slips round her neck,
And's loof upon her bosom.

Unkend that day.

Now a' the congregation o'er
Is silent expectation,

For ****** speels the holy door
Wi' tidings o' damnation.
Should Hornie, as in ancient days,
'Mang sons o' G- present him,
The very sight o' ******'s face
To's ain het hame had sent him

Wi' fright that day.

Hear how he clears the points o' faith
Wi' rattlin and wi' thumpin!

Now meekly calm,-now wild in wrath,
He's stampin, and he's jumpin!
His lengthen'd chin, and turn'd-up snout,
His eldritch squeel and gestures,

O how they fire the heart devout,
Like cantharidian plasters,

On sic a day.

But, hark! the tent has chang❜d its voice; There's peace and rest nae langer;