If he some scheme, like tea and winnocks,
Wad kindly seek.

Could he some commutation broach,
I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch,
He need na fear their foul reproach,

Nor erudition,

Yon mixtie-maxtie queer hotch-potch,
The Coalition.

Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue;
She's just A RANDY wi' a rung;

And if she promise auld or young

To tak their part,

Though by the neck she should be strung,
She'll no desert.

And now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty,
May still your mither's heart support ye;
Then, though a minister grow dorty,
And kick your place,

Ye'll snap your fingers poor and hearty,
Before his face.

God bless your honours a' your days,
Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise,
In spite o' a' the thievish kaes

That haunt St Jamie's!
Your humble Poet sings and prays,
While Rab his name is.

windows

oath

mixture, broth

rash bludgeon

sulky

food and clothes

jackdaws

POSTCRIPT.

Let half-starved slaves in warmer skies
See future wines, rich clust'ring, rise;
Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies,
But blythe and frisky,

She eyes her freeborn, martial boys
Tak aff their whisky.

What though their Phoebus kinder warms,
While fragrance blooms and beauty charms!
When wretches range in famished swarms,
The scented groves,

Or hounded forth, dishonour arins
In hungry droves.

Their gun's a burden on their shouther;
They downa bide the stink o' powther;
Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither
To stan' or rin,

Till skelp-a shot-they're aff, a' throwther,
To save their skin.

But bring a Scotchman frae his hill,
Clap in his cheek a Highland gill,

shoulder cannot, powder uncertainty

in confusion

Say such is royal George's will,
And there's the foe,

He has nae thought but how to kill
Twa at a blow.

Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him;
Death comes-wi' fearless eye he sees him;
Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him ;

And when he fa's,

His latest draught o' breathin' lea'es him
In faint huzzas!

Sages their solemn een may steek,
And raise a philosophic reek,

And physically causes seek,

In clime and season;

But tell me whisky's name in Greek,
I'll tell the reason.

Scotland, my auld, respected mither!

eyes, shut

Though whiles ye moistify your leather, sometimes, moisten

Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather

Ye tine your dam;

Freedom and whisky gang thegither!-
Tak aff your dram!

crops lose

THE AULD FARMER'S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE MAGGIE,

ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL
IN THE NEW YEAR.

A GUID New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie:

Though thou's howe-backit now, and knaggie,

I've seen the day

Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie
Out-owre the lay.

Though now thou's dowie, stiff, and crazy,
And thy auld hide's as white's a daisy,
I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glaizie,

A bonny gray:

handful

hollow, show[ing the bones

colt over, field

melancholy

glossy

He should been tight that daur't to raize thee prepared, excite

Ance in a day.

Thon ance was i' the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve, and swank,
And set weel down a shapely shank
As e'er tread yird;

And could hae flown out-owre a stank
Like ony bird.

It's now some nine-and-twenty year,
Sin' thou was my guid-father's meare;

once

stately, firm, agile

earth stagnant ditch

mare

But hamely, tawie, quiet, and cannie, quiet to handle, gentle

And unco sonsie.

That day ye pranced wi' muckle pride,
When you bure hame my bonny bride:
And sweet and gracefu' she did ride,
Wi' maiden air!

Kyle Stewart I could braggèd wide,
For sic a pair.

Though now ye dow but hoyte and hobble,

And wintle like a saumont-coble,

That day ye was a jinker noble,

For heels and win'!

And ran them till they a' did wauble

Far, far behin'!

very, engaging

much

bore

can, limp

stagger, salmon-boat

runner

reel

high-mettled

tedious scream

aloof

When thou and I were young and skeigh,

And stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,

How thou would prance, and snore, and skreigh,

And tak' the road!

Town's bodies ran, and stood abeigh,

And ca't thee mad.

When thou was corn't, and I was mellow,

We took the road aye like a swallow:

At brooses thou had ne'er a fellow

For pith and speed;

But every tail thou pay't them hollow,
Whare'er thou gaed.

The sma' droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle,
Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle;

race at a marriage

But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle,

And gar't them whaizle:

Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle

O' saugh or hazle.

Thou was a noble fittie-lan',*

As e'er in tug or tow was drawn!

[short race perhaps, worst, six

made, wheeze

wand

willow

harness

Aft thee and I,,in aught hours' gaun,
In guid March weather,

eight, going

Hae turned sax rood beside our han'

For days thegither.

Thou never braindg't, and fetch't, and fliskit,†
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whisket,

The right-hand horse in the plough.
Ran rashly, capered, pulled irregularly.

together

whisked

And spread abreed thy weel-filled brisket,
Wi' pith and power,

Till spritty knowes wad rair't and risket,*

And slypet owre.

When frosts lay lang, and snaws were deep,
And threatened labour back to keep,

I gied thy cog a wee bit heap

Aboon the timmer;

I kenn'd my Maggie wadna sleep

For that, or simmer.

In cart or car thou never reestit;

The steyest brae thou wad hae face'd it;

abroad, breast

turned over

wooden dish

above, edge

knew

ere

stopt

steepest

Thou never lap, and sten't and breastit, leapt, strained, sprung

Then stood to blaw;

But just thy step a wee thing hastit,

Thou snoov't awa.

Monie a sair daurk we twa hae wrought,
And wi' the weary warl' fought!

And monie an anxious day I thought
We wad be beat!

Yet here to crazy age we're brought,
Wi' something yet.

And think na, my auld trusty servan',
That now perhaps thou's less deservin',
And thy auld days may end in starvin',
For my last fow,

A heapit stimpart, I'll reserve ane
Laid by for you.

We've worn to crazy years thegither;

We'll toyte about wi' ane anither;

Wi' tentie care I'll flit thy tether,

To some hain'd rig,

Where ye may nobly rax you leather,

Wi' sma' fatigue.

breathe [forward

hasted

went smoothly on

besides, more

fifteen worst

sore day's work

world

many

would

heap of corn eighth of bushel

totter

observant, move, halter

spared ridge

stretch

THE TWA DOGS.

A TALE.

"TWAS in that place o' Scotland's isle

That bears the name o' Auld King Coil, (Kyle in Ayrshire)

Upon a bonnie day in June,

When wearing through the afternoon,

Rushy hillocks, would, roared, rasped.

Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame,
Forgathered ance upon a time.

The first I'll name, they ca'd him Cæsar,
Was keepit for his honour's pleasure;
His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs,
Showed he was nane o' Scotland's dogs,
But whalpit some place far abroad,
Whare sailors gang to fish for cod.

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar,
Showed him the gentleman and scholar;
But though he was o' high degree,
NAE HAET CONCEIT-nae pride had he;
But wad hae spent a hour caressin',
E'en wi' a tinkler-gipsy's messan.
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,

Nae tawted tyke, though e'er sae duddie,
But he wad stan't, as glad to see him,

busy met

ears

whelped where, go

fine

none would

cur

smithy

shaggy, ragged

And FRISK OWRE stanes and hillocks wi' him.

The tither was a ploughman's collie,
A rhyming, ranting, roving billie,
Wha for hi friend and comrade had him,
And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him,
After some dog in Highland sang,
Was made langsyne-nane kens how lang.

He was a gash and faithful tyke,
As ever lap a sheugh or dyke.
His honest, sonsie, baws'nt face,
Aye gat him friends in ilka place.
His breast was white, his touzie back
Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black;
His gaucie tail, wi' upward curl,
Hung o'er his hurdies wi' a swirl.

other blade

(Ossian)

sagacious jumped, ditch plump, brindled always got, each

shaggy

stately

hips, swirling motion

Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither,

fond

And unco pack and thick thegither;

very intimate [ted

Wi' social nose whyles snuff'd and snowkit, sometimes scen

I've aften wondered, honest Luath,

What sort o' life poor dogs like you have;

And when the gentry's life I saw,

What way poor bodies lived ava.

Our laird gets in his racked rents,

at all

[ments

His coals, his kain, and a' his stents; rent in kind, assess