TO DR. BLACKLOCK. ELLISLAND, Oct. 21, 1789. Lord send you ay as weel's I want ye, The ill-thief blaw the Heron' south! I lippen'd' to the chiel in trouth, And bade nae better. But aiblins' honest Master Heron And holy study; An' tired o' sauls to waste his learR on, But what d' ye think, my trusty fier?" Ye'll now disdain me, And then my fifty pounds a year 10 Will little gain me. Ye glaiket, gleesome, dainty damies, That strang necessity supreme is ’Mang sons o men. I hae a wife and twa wee" laddies, They maun hae brose and brats o' duddies;13 1 Proud.-2 Cheerful.-3 Short journey.-4 Mr. Heron, author of a History of Scotland, and of various other works.-5 Depended.-6 Fellow.-7 Perhaps, 8 Learning.-9 Friend. 10 Inattentive. 11 Meandering. -12 Little. 3 Food and raiment. Ye ken yoursel my heart right proud is, But I'll sned' besoms-thraw saugh woodies," Lord help me thro' this warld o' care! Not but I hae a richer share Than monie ithers; But why should ae man better fare, Come, Firm Resolve, take thou the van, Wha does the utmost that he can, But to conclude my silly rhyme, To weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime My compliments to sister Beckie; As e'er tread clay! An' gratefully, my guid auld cockie, ROBERT BURNS. TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER. DUMFRIES, 1796. My honor'd Colonel, deep I feel Your interest in the Poet's weal; Ah! now sma' heart hae I to speel® The steep Parnassus, 1 Lop, or cut.-2 Twist willow ropes.-3 Late and early.-4 Sometimes.Know. To climb. Surrounded thus by bolus pill And potion glasses. Oh what a cantie' warl were it, Would pain, and care, and sickness spare it; (And ay a rowth roast-beef and claret, Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her, I've found her still, Ay wavering like the willow-wicker, Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan, Syne, whip! his tail ye 'll ne'er cast saut on, Ah Nick! ah Nick! it is na fair, Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare, Poor man, the fly, aft bizzes by, And aft as chance he comes thee nigh, Already in thy fancy's eye, Thy sicker" treasure, Soon heels-o'er-gowdie!" in he gangs, And like a sheep-head on a tangs, 1 Cheerful.-2 Plenty.-3 Then.-4 Unsteady.-5 The cat.- A rat.-7 To get hold of.-8 Mad, or off our guard.-9 To buzz. 10 Literally, itches. Some persons manifest a high degree of pleasure by a quick motion of the elbow. 11 Sure.-12 Topsy-turvy. Thy girning' laugh enjoys his pangs As dangling in the wind he hangs But lest you think I am uncivil, To plague you with this draunting2 drivil, I quit my pen: The Lord preserve us frae the Devil! TO A TAILOR, In answer to an epistle which he had sent to the Author. WHAT ails ye now, ye lousie b-ch, I did na suffer half sae much Frae daddie Auld. What tho' at times, when I grow crouse, Your servant sae? Gae mind your seam, ye prick the louse, King David, o' poetic brief, Wrought 'mang the lasses sic mischief An' bluidy rants, An' yet he's rank'd amang the chief 1 Grinning hideously.-2 Drawling. 3 This answer to a trimming letter, is omitted in Dr. Currie's edition o the Poems, published for the benefit of the Author's family; not because he had any doubt that the verses were written by Burns, but because he was of opinion that they were discreditable to his memory-and for the same reason, the editor and commentator, in this edition, has forborne to elucidate what he deems already sufficiently indelicate. And maybe, Tam, for a' my cants, An' snugly sit amang the saunts, But fegs, the Session says I maun Than garrin lasses cowp the cran Clean heels owre body, This leads me on to tell for sport, Cried three times, "Robin! Come hither lad, an' answer for 't, Ye're blamed for jobbin'!" Wi' pinch I put a Sunday face on, And syne Mess John, beyond expression, A fornicator loun he call'd me, An' said my faut frae bliss expell'd me; I'll ne'er be better." "Geld you!" quo' he, "and whatfore no If that your right hand, leg, or toe, Should ever prove your spiritual foe, You should remember To cut it aff, an' whatfore no Your dearest member?" "Na, na," quo' I, "I'm no for that, Gelding's nae better than 'tis ca't, I'd rather suffer for my faut A hearty flewit, |