Come, mourn wi' me!

Our billie's gien' us a' the jink,"
An' owre the sea.

Lament him, a' ye rantin' core,
Wha dearly like a random splore,"
Nae mair he'll join the merry roar,
In social key;

For now he's taen anither shore,
An' owre the sea.

The bonnie lasses weel may wiss1 him,
And in their dear petitions place him;
The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him,
Wi' tearfu' e'e;

For weel I wat they 'll sairly miss him,
That's owre the sea.

O Fortune! they hae room to grumble
Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle,"
Wha can do naught but fyke an' fumble,
'Twad been nae plea;

But he was gleg as onie wumble,

That's owre the sea.

Auld cantie Kyle' may weepers wear,
And stain them wi' the saut,10 saut tear,
'Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear,
In flinders" flee;

He was her laureate monie a year,
That's owre the sea.

He saw misfortune's cauld nor❜west
Lang mustering up a bitter blast;
A jillet1 brak his heart at last,
Ill may she be!

So, took a berth afore the mast,

An' owre the sea.

To tremble under Fortune's cummock,'
On scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock,"
Wi' his proud, independent stomach,
Could ill agree;

13

1 Given.--2 A dodge.-3 A frolic.-4 Wish.-5 A blunderer.-6 Trifle.Sharp, ready.-8 Wimble.-9 A district in Ayrshire.-10 Salt-11 Broken pieces.-12 Jilt.-13 Rod, or staff.-14 Raw meal and water.

So, row'd' his hurdies' in a hammock,
An' owre the sea.

He ne'er was gien to great misguidin',
Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in;
Wi' him it ne'er was under hiding;
He dealt it free;

The Muse was a' that he took pride in,
That's owre the sea.

Jamaica bodies, use him weel,
An' hap' him in a cozie biel:5
Ye'll find him ay a dainty chiel,
And fou o' glee;

He wad na wrang'd the vera Deil,
That's owre the sea.

Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie!
Your native soil was right ill-willie;"
But may ye flourish like a lily,

Now bonniely!

I'll toast ye in my hindmost gillie,"
Though owre the sea.

ELEGY ON THE YEAR 1788.

FOR lords or kings I dinna mourn,

JANUARY 1, 1782.

E'en let them die-for that they're born!
But oh! prodigious to reflect,
A towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck!
O Eighty-eight, in thy sma' space
What dire events hae taken place!
Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us!
In what a pickle thou hast left us!

The Spanish empire 's tint a head,
And my auld teethless Bawtie 's1o dead;
The toolzie 's" tengh" 'tween Pitt and Fox,
An' our gudewife's wee birdie cocks;

1 Rolled, wrapped.-2 Loins, or backside.—3 Pockets.-4 To wrap, to cover, Snug shelter. • Ill-natured, malicious.-7 Diminutive of Gill.

• Twelvemonth.-9 Lost. -10 Name for a dog.-11 Quarrol.-12 Obstinate.

The tane is game, a bluidy devil,
But to the hen-birds unco civil;
The tither 's dour,' has nae sic breedin',
But better stuff ne'er claw'd a midden."

Ye ministers, come mount the pulpit,
An' cry till ye be hearse an' rupit;3
For Eighty-eight he wish'd you weel,
And gied ye a' baith gear" an' meal;
E'en monie a plack," an' monie a peck,
Ye ken yoursels, for little feck!"

Ye bonnie lasses, dight your een,
For some o' you hae tint a frien':
In Eighty-eight, ye ken, was taen
What ye'll ne'er hae to gie again.

Observe the very nowt' an' sheep,
How dowffo an' dowie" now they creep;
Nay, e'en the yirth" itself does cry,
For E'nbrugh wells are grutten13 dry.

O Eighty-nine, thou 's but a bairn,
An' no owre auld, I hope, to learn!
Thou beardless boy, I pray tak care!
Thou now hast got thy daddie's chair;

Nae hand-cuff'd, muzzled, half-shackled regent,
But, like himsel', a full, free agent.

Be sure to follow out the plan

Nae waur" than he did, honest man,

As muckle better as you can.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT RUISSEAUX."

Now Robin lies in his last lair,16

He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair,

Cauld poverty, wi' hungry stare,

Nae mair shall fear him;

1 Inflexible, unbending.-2 Dunghill.-3 Hoarse.-4 Gave.-5 Goods, effects. - An old coin, the third part of a Scotch penny.-7 Value, or consideration. - Wipe.— Black cattle.-10 Pithless.-11 Worn with grief-12 Earth.13 Wept.-14 Worse.-15 Ruisseaux, a play on his own name.-16 A place for lying down.

Nor anxious fear, nor cankert1 care,

E'er mair come near him.

To tell the truth, they seldom fasht' him;
Except the moment that they crusht him;
For sune as chance or fate had husht 'em,
Though e'er sae short,

Then wi' a rhyme or song he lasht 'em,
An' thought it sport.-

Though he was bred to kintra3 wark,
And counted was baith wight and stark,'
Yet that was never Robin's mark

To mak a man;

But tell him he was learn'd and clark,"
Ye roos'd him then!

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF PEG NICHOLSON,

A favorite mare belonging to Mr. W. Nicol, of the High School, Edinburghthe "Willie that brew'd a peck o' maut."

PEG NICHOLSON was a gude bay mare,
As ever trode on airn;"

But now she's floating down the Nith,
An' past the Mouth o' Cairn."

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' rode through thick an' thin;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
An' wanting even the skin.

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' ance she bare a priest;

But now she's floating down the Nith,
For Solway fish a feast.

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare,
An' the priest he rode her sair;

An' meikle oppress'd an' bruised she was,
As priest-rid cattle are.

1 Cross, ill-conditioned.-2 Troubled.-3 Country.-4 Strong, powerful.5 Learned and clever.- Iron.-7 A tributary stream of the Nith.-8 Did bear.-9 Much.

EPIGRAMS, ETC.

EPIGRAM

On Elphinstone's translation of Martial's Epigrams.

O THOU Whom Poetry abhors,

Whom Prose has turnéd out of doors,

Heard'st thou that groan?-proceed no further,
'Twas laurell'd Martial roaring murder.

WRITTEN IN A LADY'S POCKET-BOOK.

GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live
To see the miscreants feel the pains they give:
Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air,
Till slave and despot be but things which were.

VERSES

Written on the windows of the Globe Tavern, Dumfries.

THE gray-beard, old Wisdom, may boast of his treasures,
Give me with gay Folly to live;

I grant him his calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures,
But Folly has raptures to give.

I MURDER hate by field or flood,

Tho' glory's name may screen us;
In wars at hame I'll spend my blood,
Life-giving wars of Venus.

The deities that I adore,

Are social Peace and Plenty;

I'm better pleased to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty.