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Ae auld wheelbarrow, mair for token,
auld mother brunt the trin'le.-
have laid nae tax on misses 5;
But her, my bonny sweet wee lady,
And now, remember Mr A-k-n,
This list wi' my ain han’ I wrote it,
Mossgiel, February 22d, 1986.
Burns, accompanied by a Friend, having gone to Inverary
at a time when some company were there on a visit to his Grace the Duke of Argyll, finding himself and his com. panion entirely neglected by the Inn-keeper, whose whole attention seemed to be occupied with the visitors of his Grace, expressed his disapprobation of the incivility with which they were treated in the following lines :
WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here,
I pity much his case,
The Lord their God, his Grące.
There's naething here but Highland pride,
And Highland scab and hunger ;
'Twas surely in an anger.
WAG IN MAUCHLINE.
LAMENT him Mauchline husbands a',
He aften did assist ye;
Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye.
Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye pass
To school in bands thegither, O tread ye lightly on his grass,
Perhaps he was your father.
ON ELPHINSTONE'S TRANSLATION OF
O Thou whom Poetry abhors,
CAPTAIN FRANCIS GROSE,
THE CELEBRATED ANTIQUARY.
Tak following Epigram, written in a moment of festivity by
Burns, was so much relished by Grose, that he made it serve as an excuse for prolonging the convivial occasion that gave it birth, to a very late hour.
The Devil got notice that Grose was a-dying,
moaning, And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning, * Astonished ! confounded ! cry'd Satan,“ by G-d, " I'll want 'im, ere I take such a d-ble load.”
* Mr Grose was exceedingly corpulent, and used to rally himself, with the greatest good humour, on the singular rotun. dity of his figure.