« PredošláPokračovať »
While terra firma, on her axis
Count on a friend, in faith an' practice,
In Robert Burns.
My memory's no worth a preen:
I had amaist forgotten clean,
Ye bade me write you what they mean
By this new light,* 'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been
Maist like to fight.
In days when mankind were but callans
They took nae pains their speech to balance,
But spak their thoughts in plain braid lallans,
In thae auld times, they thought the moon,
Gaed past their viewing,
An' shortly after she was done
They gat a new one.
This past for certain undisputed;
An' ca'd it wrang;
And muckle din there was about it,
Baith loud an' lang,
Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the beuk,
An' backlins-comin, to the leuk,
She grew mair bright.
See note, p. 37.
This was deny'd-it was affirm'd;
That beardless laddies
Should think they better were inform'd
Than their auld daddies.
Frae less to mair it gaed to sticks:
Wi' hearty crunt;
An' some, to learn them for their tricks,
Were hang'd an' brunt:
This game was play'd in monie lands,
Till lairds forbade, by strict commands,
Sic bluidy pranks.
But new-light herds gat sic a cowe,
Folk thought them ruin'd stick-and-stowe,
Ye'll find ane plac'd;
An' some, their new-light fair avow,
Just quite barefac'd.
Nae doubt the auld-light flocks are bleatin;
Wi' girnin sprite,
To hear the moon sae sadly lie'd on
By word an' write.
But shortly they will cowe the louns!
An' stay a month amang the moons,
An' see them right.
Guid observation they will gie them;
An' when the auld moon's gaun to lea'e them, The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' them, Just i' their pouch,
An' when the new-light billies see them,
I think they'll crouch!
Sae, ye observe that a' this clatter
I hope we bardies ken some better
Than mind sic brulzie.
EPISTLE TO J. R******,
ROUGH, rude, ready-witted R******,
Your dreams* an' tricks
Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin,
Straught to auld Nick's.
Ye hae sae monie cracks an' cants,
An' fill them fou ;
And then their failings, flaws, an' wants,
Are a' seen thro'.
Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it!
That holy robe, O dinna tear it!
Spare't for their sakes wha often wear it,
The lads in black;
But your curst wit, when it comes near it,
Think, wicked sinner, wha ye're skaithing,
Like you or I.
A certain humourous dream of his was then making a noise
in the country-side.
I've sent you here some rhyming ware,
Yon sang, Ye'll sen't wi cannie care,
And no neglect.
Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing!
An' danc'd my fill:
I'd better gaen, an' saird the king
At Bunker's Hill.
'Twas ae night lately in my fun,
An' as the twilight was begun,
Thought nane wad ken,
The poor wee thing was little hurt,
I straikit it a wee for sport,
Ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't;
Somebody tells the poacher-court
The hale affair.
Some auld-us'd hands had ta'en a note,
I was suspected for the plot;
I scorn'd to lie,
So gat the whissle o' my groat,
An' pay't the fee.
But, by my gun, o' guns the wale,
I vow an' swear!
As soon's the clock in-time is by,
• A song he had promised the author
L-d, I'se hae sportin by an' by,
For my guid guinea:
Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye
For't, in Virginia.
Trowth, they had muckle for to blame!
Scarce thro' the feathers;
An' baith a yellow George to claim,
An' thole their blethers!
It pits me ay as mad's a hare;
When time's expedient:
Meanwhile I am, respected sir,
Your most obedient.
THERE was three kings into the east,
Three king: both great and high,
They took a plough, an' plough'd him down,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
But cheerful spring came kindly on,
The sultry suns of summer came,
And he grew thick and strong,
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
*This is partly composed on the plan of an old song known by
the same name..