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And then my fifty pounds a year
Will little gain me.
Ye glaikit, gleesome, daintie damies
Ye ken, ye ken
'Mang sons o' men.
I hae a wife an’twa wee laddies;
I need nae vaunt,
Before they want.
Lord help me thro’ this warld o' care
Than monie ithers :
And a' men brithers ?
Come, Firm Resolve, take thou the van,
Will whyles do mair.
But to conclude my silly rhyme,
To weans and wife ·
That's the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.
My compliments to sister Beckie;
As e'er trod clay!
TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER.
My honord Colonel, deep I feel
The steep Parnassus,
And potion glasses.
0, what a cantie world were it, Would pain, and care, and sickness spare it; And fortune favor worth and merit,
As they deserve: (And ay a rowth, roast-beef and claret ;
Syne wha wad starve ?)
Dame Life, tho’ fiction out may trick her, And in paste gems and fripp'ry deck her; Oh! flick’ring, feeble, and unsicker
I've found her still,
Ay wav'ring like the willow wicker,
'Tween good and ill.
Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan,
He's aff like fire.
Ah, Nick! ah, Nick! it is na fair,
To put us daft;
O' hell's damn'd waft.
Poor man, the flie, aft bizzies by,
And hellish pleasure;
Thy sicker treasure.
Soon, heels o’er gowdie! in he gangs,
And murd'ring wrestle,
A gibbet's tassel.
But, lest you think I am uncivil,
Abjuring a' intentions evil,
I quat my pen:
TO J-ST-T GL-NC-R.
Auld comrade dear, and brither sinner,
Till by an' by, if I haud on,
My heart-warm love to guid auld Glen, The ace an’ wale of honest men ; When bending down with auld gray hairs, Beneath the load of years
cares, May he who made him still support him, An' views beyond the grave comfort him. His worthy fam’ly far and near, God bless them a'wi grace and gear.
My auld school-fellow, Preacher Willie, The manly tar, my mason Billie, An' Auchenbay, I wish him joy; If he's a parent, lass or boy, May he be dad, and Meg the mither, Just five-an’-forty years thegither! An' no forgetting wabster Charlie, I'm tauld he offers very fairly. An', L-d, remember singing Sannock, Wi' hale breeks, saxpence, an'a bannock; And next, my auld acquaintance, Nancy, Since she is fitted to her fancy ; An' her kind stars hae airted till her A guid chiel wi' a pickle siller. My kindest, best respects I sen' it, To cousin Kate, an' sister Janet; Tell them frae me, wi chiels be cautious,