TO A LOUSE, On Seeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church. H A! whare ye gaun, ye crowlan ferlie! I canna fay but ye ftrunt rarely, Owre gawze and lace; Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but fparely, On fic a place. Ye ugly, creepan, blaftet wonner, Detefted, fhunn'd, by faunt an' finner, Swith, in some beggar's haffet fquattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, In fhoals and nations; Whare born nor bane ne'er daur unfettle, Your thick plantations. Now haud you there, ye're out o' fight, Below the fatt'rels, fnug and tight, Na faith ye yet! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it, The vera tapmoft, towrin height O' Mifs's bonnet. your nofe out, My footh! right bauld ye fet As plump an' gray as as onie grozet: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red fmeddum, A a TO A LOUSE, On Seeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church. H A! whare ye gaun, ye crowlan ferlie! I canna fay but ye ftrunt rarely, Tho' faith, I fear Owre gawze and lace; ye dine but fparely, On fic a place. Ye ugly, creepan, blastet wonner, Detefted, fhunn'd, by faunt an' finner, An' Paitricks fcraichan loud at e'en, And morning Pooffie whiddan seen, Inspire my Muse, This freedom, in an unknown frien', I pray excufe. I'd gie you fic a hearty dose o't, Wad drefs your droddum! I wad na been furpriz'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins fome bit duddie boy, On's wylecoat; But Mifs's fine Lunardi, fye! How daur ye do't? O Jenny dinna tofs your head, An' fet your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blaftie's makin! Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin! O wad fome Pow'r the giftie gie us To fee ourfels as others fee us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And ev'n Devotion! |