How would his Highland lug been nobler fir'd, While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart. A venerable Chief advanc'd in years: His hoary head with water lilies crown'd, Next follow'd Courage, with his martial stride, A female form, came from the tow'rs of Stair: To rustic Agriculture did bequeath The broken iron instruments of death; At sight of whom our sprites forgat their kindling wrath. THE ORDINATION. For sense they little owe to frugal Heav'n, NNNNN KILMARNOCK wabsters, fidge an' claw, An' pour your creeshie nations; An' ye wha leather rax an' draw, Of a' denominations; Swift to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a', For joy this day. Curst Common-Sense, that imp o' hell, Wi' dirt this day. Mak haste an' turn King David owre, double verse come gie us four, An' skirl up the Bangor; This day the kirk kicks up a stoure, And gloriously she'll whang her Wi' pith this day. Come let a proper text be read, Pow graceless Ham+ leugh at his Dad, Or Zipporah, the scaulding jade, I' th' inn that day. There, try his mettle on the creed, That Stipend is a carnal weed He takes but for the fashion; Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the ad mission of the late reverend and worthy Mr. L. to the Laigh Kirk + Genesis, ch. ix. ver. 22. Exodus, ch. iv. ver. 25. Numbers, ch. xxv. ver. 2. And gie him o'er the flock, to feed, Spare them na day. Now auld Kilmarnock cock thy tail, An' toss thy horns fu' canty; Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale, Because thy pasture's scanty; For lapfu's large o' gospel kail An' runts o' grace the piek an' whale, No' gi'en by way o' dainty, But ilka day. Na mair by Babel's streams we'll weep, To think upon our Zion; And hing our fiddles up to sleep, Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep, O, rare! to see our elbucks wheep, Fu' fast this day! Lang Patronage, wi' rod o' airn, Our patron, honest man! Glencairn, And like a godly elect bairn, He's wal'd us out a true ane, And sound this day. Now R****** harangue nae mair, Or, nae reflection on your lear, Aff-hand this day. M***** and you were just a match, Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch, Fast, fast this day. See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes Hark! how the nine-tail'd cat she plays! There, Learning, with his Greekish face, And Common-Sense is gaun, she says, To mak to Jamie Beattie Her plaint this day. But there's Morality himsel, Embracing all opinions; Hear, how he gies the tither yell, Now there they're packed aff to hell, Henceforth this day. O happy day! rejoice, rejoice! Shall here nae mair find quarter; That heresy can torture; They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, And cow her measure shorter By th' head some day. Come, bring the tither mutchkin in, To ev'ry New Light* mother's son, • New Light is a cant phrase, in the west of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor, of Norwich, has defended so strenuously. If mair they deave us with their din, We'll light a spunk, and ev'ry skin, Like oil, some day. THE CALF. TO THE REV. MR. ON HIS TEXT, MALACHI, CH. IV. VER. 2. And they shall go forth, and grow up like calves of the stall. RIGHT, sir! your text I'll prove it true, Though heretics may laugh; For instance; there's yoursel just now, And should some patron be so kind, I doubt na, sir, but then we'll find But, if the lover's raptur'd hour Forbid it, ev'ry heav'nly pow'r, You e'er should be a stot! Though, when some kind connubial dear Your but-and-ben adorns, The like has been that you may wear And in your lug, most rev'rend James, Few men o' sense will doubt your claims And when ye're number'd wi' the dead, Wi' justice they may mark your head- |