And monie a fallow gat his licks,
Wi' hearty crunt;'

An' some, to learn them for their tricks,
Were hang'd an' brunt."

This game was play'd in monie lands,
An' auld-light caddies bure1 sic hands,
That, faith, the youngsters took the sands
Wi' nimble shanks,

The lairds forbade, by strict command,
Sic bluidy pranks.

But new-light herds gat sic a cowe,5
Folk thought them ruin'd stick-an'-stowe,"
Till now amaist on every knowe,"

Ye'll find ane placed;

An' some their new-light fair avow,
Just quite barefaced.

Nae doubt the auld-light flocks are bleatin';
Their zealous herds are vex'd an' sweatin';
Mysel, I've even seen them greetin"
Wi' girnin' spite,

To hear the moon sae sadly lied on
By word an' write.10

But shortly they will cowe the louns!
Some auld-light herds in neebor towns
Are mind 't, in things they ca' balloons,
To tak a flight,

And stay ae month amang the moons
An' see them right.

Guid observation they will gie them;
An' when the auld-moon 's gaen to lea'e them,
The hindmost shaird," they'll fetch it wi' them,
Just i' their pouch,

An' when the new-light billies" see them,

I think they'll crouch!

1 A blow on the head with a cudgel.-2 Burnt.

Literally ticket-porters, or trusty persons who are employed on errands; but the appellation is frequently used in a more general way, and applied to other persons.

Did bear.-5 A fright or beating.-6 Altogether.-7 Hillock.-8 Weeping. -9 With rage, or agony of spirit.-10 Both in conversation and books.-11 A shred.-12 Brethren.

Sae, ye observe that a' this clatter
Is naething but a moonshine matter;
But tho' dull prose-folk Latin splatter
In logic tulzie,'

I hope we bardies ken some better,
Than mind sic brulzie."

TO JOHN GOUDIE, KILMARNOCK,

On the publication of his Essays.

O GOUDIE! terror o' the Whigs,
Dread o' black coats an' reverend wigs,
Sour Bigotry, on her last legs,

Girnin' looks back,

Wishin' the ten Egyptian plagues
Wad seize you quick.

Poor gapin', glowrin" Superstition,
Waes me! she's in a sad condition;
Fie! bring Black Jock her state physician
To see her water!

Alas! there's ground o' great suspicion
She'll ne'er get better.

Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple,
But now she's got an unco ripple,"
Haste, gie her name up i' the chapel,
Nigh unto death;

See how she fetches at the thrapple,
An' gasps for breath.

6

Enthusiasm's past redemption,
Gaen' in a gallopping consumption,
Not a' the quacks wi' a' their gumption
Will ever mend her,

Her feeble pulse gies strong presumption

Death soon will end her.

To quarrel.-2 A broil.-3 Twisting the features in agony.-4 Staring.Great weakness in the back, or loins.-6 That the prayers of the congrega tion may be offered up in her behalf.-7 Going.-8 Skill

'Tis you and Taylor' are the chief
Wha are to blame for this mischief;
But gin' the Lord's ain focks3 gat leave,
A toom' tar-barrel

And twa red peats wad send relief,
An' end the quarrel.

TO J. RANKINE,

Inclosing some poems.

O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted Rankine,
The wale" o' cocks for fun and drinkin'!
There's monie godly folks are thinkin',
Your dreams" an' tricks

Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin',
Straught to auld Nick's.
Ye hae sae monie cracks an' cants,
And in your wicked, drucken rants,
Ye mak a devil o' the saunts,

An' fill them fou;9

And then their failings, flaws, an' wants,
Are a' seen thro'.

Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it!

That holy robe, oh dinna tear it,
Spare 't for their sakes wha aften wear it,
The lads in black;

But your curst wit, when it comes near it,
Rives 'to aff their back.

Think, wicked sinner, wha ye're skaithing,"
It's just the blue-gown badge an' claithing
O' saunts;12 tak that, ye la'e13 them naething
To ken them by,

Frae onie unregenerate heathen

Like you or I.

1 Dr. Taylor of Norwich.-2 If, against.-3 Folk, people.-4 Empty.-5 Two red-hot turfs, such as are used for fuel.-6 Choice.

7 A certain humorous dream of his was then making a noise in the country-side.

8 Conversation. - Make them drunk.-10 Rends.—11 Injuring.—12 Saints. -13 Leave.

I've sent you here some rhyming ware,
A' that I bargain'd for, an' mair:
Sae, when you hae an hour to spare,
I will expect

Yon sang,' ye'll sen't wi' cannie' care,
And no neglect.

Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing!
My Muse dow3 scarcely spread her wing!
I've play'd mysel a bonnie spring,
An' danced my fill;

I'd better gaen an' sair'd' the king
At Bunker's Hill.

'Twas ae night, lately, in my fun,
I gaed a-roving wi' the gun,

An' brought a paitrick to the grun','
A bonnie hen,

An' as the twilight was begun,

Thought nane wad ken.

The poor wee thing was little hurt;
I straiket it a wee for sport,

Ne'er thinkin' they wad fash' me for 't;
But deil-ma-care!

Somebody tells the poacher-court
The halelo affair.

Some auld-used hands had taen a note,
That sic a hen had got a shot;

I was suspected for the plot:

I scorn'd to lie.

So gat the whissle o' my grot,"

An' pay't the fee.

But, by my gun, o' guns the wale,"
An' by my pouther an' my hail,13
An' by my hen, an' by her tail,

The game shall

I vow an' swear!

pay o'er moor an' dale,
For this, neist year.

1 A song he had promised the Author.-2 Dexterous.- Can, or dare.A Scottish reel.- Served. A partridge. - 7 Ground. - 8 Stroked.Trouble.-10 Whole.-11 I played a losing game.-12 The choice.-13 Shot.

As soon's the clocking-time' is by,
An' the wee pouts begun to cry,
Lord, I 'se hae sporting by an' by,

For my gowd guinea,

Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye2
For 't in Virginia.

Trowth, they had muckle for to blame!
'Twas neither broken wing nor limb,
But twa-three draps about the wames

Scarce thro' the feathers;
And baith a yellow George to claim,

An' thole their blethers!*

It pits me ay as mad's a hare;
So I can rhyme nor write nae mair;
But pennyworths again is fair,

When time 's expedient;

Meanwhile I am, respected sir,

Your most obedient.

TO THE SAME,

On his writing to the Author that a girl was with child by him.

I AM a keeper of the law

In some sma' points, altho' not a';

Some people tell me gin" I fa'

Ae way or ither,

The breaking of ae point, tho' sma',
Breaks a' thegither.

I hae been in for 't ance or twice,
And winna say o'er far for thrice,
Yet never met with that surprise

That broke my rest,

But now a rumor's like to rise,

A whaup's i' the nest.

1 Hatching-time.-2 Be transported to America, and made a cow-herdBelly.-4 Endure their abuse.-5 If.—6 Curlew.