The langest thong, the fiercest growler, HELL, June 1st, Anno Mundi 5790. A DREAM BEELZEBUB. Thoughts, words, and deeds, the Statute blames with reason; But surely Dreams were ne'er indicted Treason. GUID-MORNIN' to your Majesty! On ev'ry new birth-day ye see, I see ye're complimented thrang, "God save the King" 's a cuckoo sang Bread albane's reward An esti The poets, too, a venal gang, Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd an' ready, Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang, But aye unerring steady, On sic a day. For me! before a monarch's face, There's mony waur been o' the race, Than you this day. 'Tis very true, my sovereign King, Your royal nest, beneath your wing, Than did ae day. Far be't frae me that I aspire To rule this mighty nation : Ye've trusted ministration To chaps wha in a barn or byre Wad better fill'd their station Than courts yon day. Taxation's burdens And now ye've gien auld Britain peace, Your sair taxation does her fleece, Till she has scarce a tester: For me, thank God, my life's a lease, Or faith! I fear, that, wi' the geese, I shortly boost to pasture I' the craft some day. I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt, (An' Will's a true guid fallow's get, An' boats this day. Adieu, my Liege! may freedom geck To pay your Queen, wi' due respect, My fealty an' subjection This great birth-day. Hail, Majesty most Excellent! While nobles strive to please ye, Will ye accept a compliment, The Royal Family Thae bonie bairntime, Heav'n has lent, For ever to release ye Frae care that day. For you, young Potentate o' Wales, I tell your highness fairly, Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie By night or day. Yet aft a ragged cowt's been known, So, ye may doucely fill the throne, And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John, For mony a day. For you, right rev'rend Osnaburg, Altho' a ribbon at your lug As Wad been a dress completer : Young, royal tarry-breeks, I learn, Ye've lately come athwart her— A glorious galley, stem and stern, Then heave aboard your grapple airn, An', large upon her quarter, Come full that day. Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a', Ye royal lasses dainty, Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw, God bless you a'! consider now, An' I hae seen their coggie fou, The laggen they hae clautit Fu' clean that day. A DEDICATION TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. EXPECT na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth'rin Dedication, German princes |