Wi' sauce, ragouts, and such like trashtrie,
That's little short o' downright wastrie.
Our Whipper-in, wee blastit wonner,1
Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner,
Better than ony tenant man

His Honor has in a' the lan:

An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch2 in,
I own it's past my comprehension.

LUATH.

Trowth, Cæsar, whyles they're fash't enough
A cotter howkin3 in a sheugh,
Wi' dirty stanes biggin1 a dyke,
Baring a quarry, and siclike,
Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains,
A smytries o' wee duddie weans,7
An' nought but his han' darg, to keep
Them right an' tight in thack an' rape.'
An' when they meet wi' sair disasters,
Like loss o' health, or want o' masters,
Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langer,
An' they maun starve o' cauld and hunger;
But, how it comes, I never kend yet,
They're maistly wonderfu' contented;
An' buirdly 10 chiels, an' clever hizzies,
Are bred in sic a way as this is.

CESAR.

But then to see how ye're negleckit,
How huff'd, an' cuff'd, an' disrespeckit!
Lord, man, our gentry care as little
For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle,
They gang as saucy by poor folk,
As I wad by a stinking brock."

I've notic'd on our Laird's court-day,
An' mony a time my heart's been wae,
Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash,
How they maun thole12 a factor's snash :13
He'll stamp an' threaten, curse and swear,"
He'll apprehend them, poind15 their gear;
While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble,
An' hear it a', an fear and tremble!

3 Digging. 6 Ragged.

2 Paunch.
5 A numerous collection.
9 Clothing necessaries.
12 Endure.

1 Wonder.

& Labour.

11 Badger.

14

4 Building.

7 Children. 10 Stout-grown. 13 Abuse.

14 "My indignation yet boils at the recollection of the scoundrel factor's insolent threatening letters, which used to set us all in tears."-R. B.

15 Seize their goods.

2

I see how folk live that hae riches:
But surely poor folk maun be wretches

LUATH.

They're no sae wretched's ane wad think
Tho' constantly on poortith's' brink :
They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight,
The view o't gies them little fright.
Then chance an' fortune are sae guided,
They're ay in less or mair provided;
An' tho' fatigu'd wi' close employment,
A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment.
The dearest comfort o' their lives,
Their grushie2 weans an' faithfu' wives :
The prattling things are just their pride,
That sweetens a' their fire-side.

An' whyles twalpennie worth o' nappy
Can mak the bodies unco happy;
They lay aside their private cares,
To mind the Kirk and State affairs:
They'll talk o' patronage and priests,
Wi' kindling fury i' their breasts,
Or tell what new taxation's comin,
And ferlie3 at the folk in Lon❜on.

As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass1 returns,
They get the jovial, ranting Kirns,*
When rural life, o' ev'ry station,
Unite in common recreation;

6

Love blinks, Wit slaps, an' social Mirth
Forgets there's Care upo' the earth.
That merry day the year begins,
They bar the door on frosty wins;
The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream,7
An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam;
The luntins pipe, an sneeshin mill,9
Are handed round wi' right guid will;
The cantie10 auld folks crackin crouse,11
The young anes ranting thro' the house,→→→
My heart has been sae fain to see them,
That I for joy hae barkit wi' them.

Still it's owre true that ye hae said,
Sic game is now owre aften play'd.
There's monie a creditable stock
O' decent, honest fawsont

Poverty 2 Thriving.

Harvest-suppers.

Smoking.

folk,

3 Wonder.

6 Ale.

9 Snuff-box.

11 Conversing merrily.

4 31st October.

7 Cream.

10 Cheerful.

12 Seemly.

Are riven out baith root an' branch,
Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench,
Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster
In favour wi' some gentle Master,
Wha, aiblins,' thrang a parliamentin,
For Britain's guid his saul indentin-

CESAR.

Haith,2 lad, ye little ken about it;
For Britain's guid! guid faith! I doubt it.
Say, rather, gaun as Premiers lead him,
An' saying aye or no's they bid him:
At operas an' plays parading,
Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading:
Or maybe, in a frolic daft,3

To Hague or Calais taks a waft,
To make a tour, an' tak a whirl,
To learn bon ton an' see the worl❜.

There, at Vienna or Versailles,
He rives his father's auld entails;
Or by Madrid he taks the rout,
To thrum guitars, an' fecht wi' nowt ;*
Or down Italian vista startles,

W-e-hunting amang groves o' myrtles:
Then bouses drumlys German water,
To mak himsel look fair and fatter,
An' clear the consequential sorrows,
Love-gifts of Carnival Signioras.
For Britain's guid! for her destruction!
Wi' dissipation, feud, an' faction!

LUATH.

Hech, man! dear sirs! is that the gate
They waste sae mony a braw estate!
Are we sae foughten an' harass'd
For gear to gang that gate at last ?

O would they stay aback frae courts,
An' please themsels wi' countra sports,
It wad for ev'ry ane be better,
The Laird, the Tenant, an' the Cotter!
For thae frank, rantin, ramblin billies,
Fient haet' o' them's ill-hearted fellows;
Except for breakin o' their timmer,
Or speakin lightly o' their Limmer,9

1 Perhaps.

2 A petty oath. Muddy. 7 A petty oath of negation. 8 Timber.

Fight with black cattle.

3 Giddy.

6 Oh-strange.

9 A woman of ill characte

Or shootin o'a hare or moor-cock,
The ne'er-a-bit they're ill to poor folk.
But will ye tell me, Master Cæsar,
Sure great folk's life's a life o' pleasure?
Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can steer1 them,
The vera thought o't need na fear them.

CESAR.

Lord, man, were ye but whyles whare I am,
The gentles ye wad ne'er envy 'em,
It's true, they need na starve or sweat,
Thro' winter's cauld, or simmer's heat;
They've nae sair wark to craze their banes,
An' fill auld age wi' grips an' granes :2
But human bodies are sic fools,
For a' their colleges and schools,
That when nae real ills perplex them,
They mak enow themsels to vex them;
An' ay the less they hae to sturt3 them,
In like proportion, less will hurt them.
A country fellow at the pleugh,
His acres till'd, he's right eneugh;
A country girl at her wheel,

Her dizzens done, she's unco weel:
But Gentlemen, an' Ladies warst,
Wi' ev'n down want o' wark are curst.
They loiter, lounging, lank, an' lazy ;
Tho' deil haet ails them, yet uneasy :
Their days insipid, dull, an' restless;
Their nights unquiet, lang, an' tasteless;
An' ev'n their sports, their balls an' races,
Their galloping thro' public places,
There's sic parade, sic pomp, an' art,
The joy can scarcely reach the heart.
The men cast out in party matches,
Then sowthers a' in deep debauches.
Ae night, they're mad wi' drink an' w-ring,
Neist day their life is past enduring.

The Ladies arm-in-arm in clusters,
As great an' gracious a' as sisters;
But hear their absent thoughts o' ither,
They're a run deils an jads thegither.
Whyles, owre the wee bit cup an' platie,
They sip the scandal potion pretty;

Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbit leuks,
Pore owre the devil's pictur'd beuks;
Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard,
An' cheat like ony unhang'd blackguard.
There's some exception, man an' woman;
But this is Gentry's life in common.

By this, the sun was out of sight,
An' darker gloaming brought the night;
The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone,
The kye' stood rowtin' i' the loan;
When up they gat, an' shook their lugs,
Rejoic'd they were na men, but dogs;
An' each took aff his several way,
Resolv'd to meet some ither day.

SCOTCH DRINK.

Give him strong drink, until he wink,
That's sinking in despair;

An' liquor guid to fire his bluid,
That's prest wi' grief an' care;
There let him bouse, an' deep carouse,

Wi' bumpers flowing o'er,

Till he forgets his loves or debts,
An' minds his griefs no more.

Solomon's Proverbs, xxxi. 6, 7.

LET other Poets raise a fracas

'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drunken Bacchus,

An' crabbit names an' stories wrack us,

An' grate our lug,3
I sing the juice Scots bear can mak us,

In glass or jug.

O thou, my Muse! guid auld Scotch Drink,
Whether thro' wimpling worms thou jink,
Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink,
In glorious faem,

Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink,

To sing thy name!

Let husky Wheat the haught adorn,
An' Aits set up their awnie horn,
An' Pease an' Beans at een or morn,

Perfume the plain,

Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn,

Thou King o' grain!

8 An endearing phrase-I am happy in thee."