TO MR. RENTON, BERWICK.

YOUR billet, sir, I grant receipt;
Wi' you I'll canter ony gate,
Though 'twere a trip to yon blue warl',
Where birkies march on burning marl:
Then, sir, God willing, I'll attend ye,
And to his goodness I commend ye.

R. BURNS.

ON MR. M‘MURDO,

CHAMBERLAIN TO THE DUKE OF QUEENSBERRY.

BLEST be M'Murdo to his latest day,
No envious cloud o'ercast his evening ray ;
No wrinkle furrow'd by the hand of care,
Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair!
Oh, may no son the father's honour stain,
Nor ever daughter give the mother pain.

TO A LADY

WHO WAS LOOKING UP THE TEXT DURING SERMON.

FAIR maid, you need not take the hint,
Nor idle texts pursue :

"Twas guilty sinners that he meant-
Not angels such as you!

IMPROMPTU.

How daur ye ca' me howlet-face,
Ye ugly, glowering spectre?
My face was but the keekin' glass,
An' there ye saw your picture.

THE SELKIRK GRACE.

SOME hae meat, and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it ;
But we hae meat and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF PEG NICHOLSON.

PEG NICHOLSON was a gude bay mare,

As ever trode on airn;

But now she's floating down the Nith,
An' past the mouth o' Cairn.

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' rode thro' thick an' thin;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
An' wanting even the skin.

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' ance she bare a priest;

But now she's floating down the Nith,
For Solway fish a feast.

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' the priest he rode her sair;

An' meikle oppress'd an' bruised she was,
As priest-rid cattle are.

10

TO JOHN TAYLOR.

WITH Pegasus upon a day,

Apollo, weary flying,-

Through frosty hills the journey lay,--
On foot the way was plying.

Poor slip-shod giddy Pegasus
Was but a sorry walker;
To Vulcan then Apollo goes.
To get a frosty calker.

Obliging Vulcan fell to work,

Threw by his coat and bonnet,
And did Sol's business in a crack;
Sol paid him with a sonnet.

Ye Vulcan's sons of Wanlockhead,
Pity my sad disaster;

My Pegasus is poorly shod

I'll pay you like my master.

LINES WRITTEN ON A BANK-NOTE.

WAE worth thy power, thou cursed leaf!
Fell source o' a' my woe and grief!
For lack o' thee I've lost my lass!
For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass!
I see the children of affliction
Unaided, thro' thy curs'd restriction.
I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile
Amid his hapless victim's spoil,

And for thy potence vain have wuss'd
To crush the villain in the dust.

For lack o' thee I leave this much-lov'd shore,
Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more.

EPIGRAM ON A NOTED COXCOMB.

LIGHT lay the earth on Billy's breast,
His chicken heart so tender;

But build a castle on his head,
His skull will prop it under.

TAM THE CHAPMAN.

As Tam the Chapman on a day
Wi' Death forgather'd by the way,

Weel pleas'd, he greets a wight sae famous,
And Death was nae less pleased wi' Thomas,
Wha cheerfully lays down the pack,
And there blaws up a hearty crack;
His social, friendly, honest heart,
Sae tickled Death they could na part:
Sae after viewing knives and garters,

Death takes him hame to gie him quarters.

10

VERSES ADDRESSED TO J. RANKINE.

I AM a keeper of the law

In some sma' points, altho' not a';
Some people tell me gin I fa',
Ae way or ither,

The breaking of ae point, tho' sma',
Breaks a' thegither.

I hae been in for't ance or twice,
And winna say owre far for thrice,
Yet never met with that surprise

That broke my rest;

But now a rumour's like to rise,
A whaup's i' the nest.

10

LINES

SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY BURNS, AND FORWARDED

TO JOHN RANKINE, AYRSHIRE, IMMEDIATELY

AFTER THE POET'S DECEASE.

He who of Rankine sang, lies stiff and dead,
And a green grassy hillock hides his head;
Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed!

ON HIMSELF.

HERE comes Burns

On Rosinante;

She's damn'd poor,

But he's damn'd canty!

GRACE BEFORE MEAT.

O LORD, when hunger pinches sore,
Do thou stand us in need,
And send us from thy bounteous store,
A tup or wether head! Amen.

ON COMMISSARY GOLDIE'S BRAINS.

LORD, to account who dares thee call,

Or e'er dispute thy pleasure?

Else why within so thick a wall
Enclose so poor a treasure?