O Lord! yestreen, thou kens, wi' Meg— Thy pardon I sincerely beg,

O! may it ne'er be a livin' plague

To my dishonour,

An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg

Again upon her.

Besides, I farther maun allow,
Wi' Lizzie's lass, three times I trow;
But, Lord, that Friday I was fou,

When I came near her,

Or else thou kens thy servant true

Wad ne'er hae steer'd her.

Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn
Beset thy servant e'en and morn,

Lest he owre high and proud should turn, 'Cause he 's sae gifted;

If sae, thy hand maun e'en be borne,
Until thou lift it.

Lord, bless thy chosen in this place,
For here thou hast a chosen race;
But God confound their stubborn face,
And blast their name,

Wha bring thy elders to disgrace,

An' public shame.

Lord, mind Gavin Hamilton's deserts,
He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at cartes,
Yet has sae monie takin' arts,

Wi' grit an' sma',

Frae God's ain priest the people's hearts
He steals awa'.

An' whan we chasten'd him therefore,
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore,

As set the warld in a roar

O' laughin' at us;

Curse thou his basket and his store,

Kail and potatoes!

Lord, hear my earnest cry an'
Against that presbyt'ry o' Ayr,

pray'r,

Thy strong right hand, Lord, make it bare,
Upo' their heads;

Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare,
For their misdeeds.

O Lord my God, that glib-tongu'd P Aiken,
My very heart and saul are quakin',
To think how we stood sweatin', shakin',
An' p-d wi' dread,

While he, wi' hingin' lips an' snakin',
Held up his head.

Lord, in the day of vengeance try him;
Lord, visit them wha did employ him,
And pass not in thy mercy by 'em,

Nor hear their pray'r;

But, for thy people's sake, destroy 'em,
And dinna spare.

But, Lord, remember me and mine
Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine,
That I for gear and grace may shine,
Excell'd by nane,

An' a' the glory shall be thine,

Amen, Amen.

EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE.

HERE Holy Willie's sair worn clay,
Taks its last abode ;

up

His saul has taen some other way,

I fear the left-hand road.

Stop! there he is, as sure 's a gun,
Poor silly body, see him;

Nae wonder he's as black 's the grun,
Observe wha's standing wi' him.

Having readiness of speech.

Your brunstane devilship, I see,
Has got him there before ye;
But haud your nine-tail cat a-wee,
Till ance you've heard my story.
Your pity I will not implore,
For pity ye have nane;
Justice, alas! has gien him o'er,
And mercy's day is gane.

But hear me, sir, deil as ye are,
Look something to your credit;
A coof like him wad stain your name,
If it were kent ye did it.

THE CALF.

TO THE REVEREND MR.

On his text, Malachi iv. 2. And they shall go forth, and grow up, like calves of the stall."

RIGHT, Sir! your text I'll prove it true,
Tho' heretics may laugh;

For instance, there's yoursel just now,
God knows, an unco calf!

And should some patron be so kind,
As bless you wi' a kirk,

I doubt na, sir, but then we 'll find
Ye 're still as great a stirk !r

But, if the lover's raptur'd hour
Shall ever be your lot,

Forbid it, ev'ry heavenly power,
You e'er should be a stot !s

Tho', when some kind, connubial dear,
Your butt-and-bent adorns,

The like has been, that you may wear
A noble head of horns!

4A very calf.

A yearling bullock.
The country kitchen and parlour.

✔ An ox.

And in your lug, most reverend James,
To hear you roar and rowte,"
Few men o' sense will doubt your claims
To rank amang the nowte!w

And when ye 're number'd wi' the dead,
Below a grassy hillock,

Wi' justice they may mark your head

Here lies a famous bullock !'

TO A LOUSE.

On seeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church.
HA! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin'x ferlie W
Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely

Owre gauze and lace;
Tho', faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin', blastit wonner,
Detested, shunn'd, by saunt an' sinner,
How dare you set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a lady!

Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner,
On some poor body.

Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl and sprattle
Wi' ither kindred, jumpin' cattle

In shoals and nations;

Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now haud ye there, ye're out o' sight,
Below the fatt'rils, snug and tight;
Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right
Till ye 've get on it,

y A term of contempt. A contemptuous appellation.

x Crawling.

z To walk sturdily.
b Feet

Get away.

d The side of the head. e To sprawl. ƒ Trimmings.

The vera tapmost, tow'ring height
O' Miss's bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump and gray as onie grozet ;8

O for some rank, mercurial rozet,b

Or fell, red smeddum,1

I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't,

Wad dress your droddum !k

I wad na be surpris'd to spy
You on an auld wife's flainen toy ;
Or aiblins some bit duddie" boy,
On's wyliecoat ;o

But Miss's fine Lunardi' fie,

How dare ye do't?

O Jenny, dinna toss your head,
An' set your beauties a' abread !P
Ye little ken what cursed speed

The blastie's makin'!
Thaes winks and finger-ends I dread,
Are notice takin'!

O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!

It wad frae monie a blunder free us

And foolish notion:

What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
And ev'n devotion !

ODE,

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. OF

DWELLER in yon dungeon dark,
Hangman of creation! mark
Who in widow-weeds appears
Laden with unhonour'd years,

A Breech.
n Ragged

• A fannel vest.

p Abroad.

i Powder.
m Perhaps
9 Those.