Wheel-carriages I hae but few,
Three carts, an' twa are fecklyw new;
Ae auld wheel-barrow, mair for token,
Ae leg and baith the trams are broken;
I made a poker o' the spin'le,

And my auld mither brunt the trin'le.

For men, I've three mischievous boys,
Run' deils for rantin' an' for noise;
A gaudsmana ane, a thrasher t' other;
Wee Davock hauds the nowte in fother.b
I rule them as I ought, discreetly,
And aften labour them completely;
An' ay on Sundays duly nightly,
I on the Questions tairge them tightly,
Till, faith, wee Davock's turn'd sae gleg,
Tho' scarcely langer than your leg,
He'll screede you aff Effectual Cailing,
As fast as onie in the dwalling.

I've nane in female servan' station,
(Lord keep me ay frae a' temptation!)
I hae nae wife-and that my bliss is,
An' ye have laid nae tax on misses;
An' then if Kirk folks dinna clutch me,
I ken the devils daur na touch me.

Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented
Heav'n sent me ane maes than I wanted.
My sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess,
She stares the daddy in her face,
Enough of ought ye like but grace;
But her my bonnie, sweet wee lady,
I've paid enough for her already,

w Partly, nearly.

3 Burnt the wheel.

x Handles.

z Right down.

a The boy who drives the horses in the plough.

b Little David fothers the black cattle.

d Sharp, ready.

f Children.

c Examine, e To repeat any thing duently. g One more.

h Having a sweet engaging countenance.

An' gini ye tax her or her mither,
B' the Lord! ye'se get them a' thegither.

And now remember, Mr. Aiken,
Nae kind of license out I'm takin';
Frae this time forth, I do declare,
I'se ne'er ride horse nor hizziek mair;
Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle,
Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle;
My travel, a' on foot I'll shank it,
I've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit.
The Kirk an' you may tak you that,
It puts but little in your pat;
Sae dinna put me in your buke
Nor for my ten white shillings luke.
This list, wi' my ain hand I wrote it,
Day and date as under notit,

Then know all ye whom it concerns,
Subscripsi huic

Mossgiel, Feb. 22, 1786.

ROBERT BURNS.

TO J-S T-T, GL-NC-R.

AULD Comrade dear and brither sinner,
How 's a' the folk about Gl-nc-r?
How do you this blae eastlin' wind,
That's like to blaw a body blind?
For me my faculties are frozen,
My dearest member nearly dozen'd.m

've sent you here, by Johnie Simson,
Twa sage philosophers to glimpse on;
Smith, wi' his sympathetic feeling,
An' Reid, to common sense appealing.
Philosophers have fought and wrangl❜d,
An' meiklen Greek an' Latin mangl'd,
Till wi' their logic jargon tir'd,
An' in the depth of science mir'd,

i lf. k Filly, or mare. ¿ Pot. m Impotent.

n Much

To common sense they now appeal,
What wives and wabsters see an' feel:
But hark ye, friend, I charge you strictly,
Peruse them an' return them quickly;
For now I'm grown sae cursed douce,P
pray an' ponder butt the house;
My shins, my lane, I there sit roasting,
Perusing Bunyan, Brown, and Boston;
Till by an' by, if I hauds on,

I'll grunt a real gospel groan:
Already I begin to try it,

To cast my een up like a pyet,t
When, by the gun, she tumbles o'er,
Flutt'ring an' gasping in her gore:
Sae shortly you shall see me bright,
A burning an' a shining light.

My heart-warm love to guid auld Glen,
The ace an' wale" of honest men ;

When bending down with auld grey hairs,
Beneath the load of years and cares,
May He who made him still support him,
An' views beyond the grave comfort him:
His worthy fam❜ly far and near,
God bless them a' wi' grace and gear.

My auld school-fellow, preacher Willie,
The manly tar, my mason Billie,
An' Auchenbay, I wish him joy;
If he's a parent, lass or boy,

May he be dad, and Meg the mither,
Just five-an'-forty years thegither!
An' no forgetting wabster Charlie,
I'm tauld he offers very fairly.
And Lord remember singing Sannock,
Wi' hale breeks, saxpence, an' a bannock.
An' next my auld acquaintance Nancy,
Since she is fitted to her fancy;

An' her kind stars hae airted till her
A guid chiel wi' a pickle siller.
My kindest, best respects I sen' it,
To cousin Kate and sister Janet;

Tell them frae me, wi' chiels be cautious,

For, faith, they'll aiblins find them fashious:
To grant a heart is fairly civil,

But to grant a maidenhead 's the devil!

An' lastly, Jamie, for yoursel,

May guardian angels tak a spell,

An' steer you seven miles south o'hell:

But first, before you see heav'n's glory,
May ye get monie a merry story,
Monie a laugh, and monie a drink,
An' ay eneugh o' needfu' clink.

Now fare you weel, an' joy be wi' you,
For my sake this I beg it o' you,
Assist poor Simson a' ye can,
Ye 'll find him just an honest man ;
Sae I conclude and quit my chanter,
Yours, saint or sinner,

ROB THE RANTER.

TO A GENTLEMAN

Who had sent him a Newspaper and offered to continue it

free of expense.

Ellisland, 1790,

KIND Sir, I've read your paper through,
And faith, to me, 'twas really new!
How guess'd ye, Sir, what maist I wanted?
This monie a day I 've grain'de and gaunted,
To ken what French mischief was brewin';
Or what the drumlied Dutch were doing;
That vile doup-skelper,e Emperor Joseph,
If Venus yet had got his nose off;

r Moved to her; an allusion to the wind shifting to a particular

quarter.

2 A quantity of silver.
e Groaned.

b Troublesome.

y Good fellow.

a Perhaps.

d Muddy.

e One who strikes the tail.

K

Or how the collieshangief works
Atween the Russians and the Turks ;
Or, if the Swede, before he halt,
Would play anither Charles the Twalt ;
If Denmark, any body spak o't!

Or Poland, wha had now the tackh o't;
How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin',
How libbet Italy was singin';

If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss,
Were sayin' or takin' aught amiss:
Or how our merry lads at hame,
In Britain's court keep up the game;
How Royal George, the Lord leuk o'er him!
Was managing St. Stephen's quorum;
If sleekit Chatham Willm was livin',
Or glaiket Charlie gat his nievep in ;
How daddie Burke the plea was cookin',
If Warren Hastings' neck was yeukin' ;9
How cesses, stents," and fees were rax'd,
Or if bare as yet were tax'd;
The news o' princes, dukes, and earls,
Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera-girls;
If that daft buckie, Geordie Wales,
Was threshin' still at hizzies' tails,
Or if he was grown oughtlins douce,t
And no a perfect kintra cooser:"
A' this and mair I never heard of;
And but for you I might despair'd of.
So, gratefu', back your news I send you,
And pray, a' guid things may attend you!

fQuarrelling.

i Hanging.

g Twelfth.
h The guiding, or governing of it.
k Castrated.

Z Slender.

m William Pitt, son of the Earl of Chatham.
o The celebrated Charles James Fox

n Thoughtless, giddy.

p The fist.

Stretched, increased.

g Yoked.

¿ Wiser.

r Tribute, dues.

u Country stallion.