In fpite o' a' the thievifh kaes

That haunt St. Jamie's!

Your humble Bardie fings an' prays

While Rab his name is.

POSTSCRIPT.

fkies

Let half-ftarv'd flaves in warmer
See future wines, rich-cluft ring, rife;

Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies,

But blyth and frisky,

She eyes her freeborn, martial boys

Tak aff their Whisky.

What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms, While Fragrance blooms and Beauty charms! When wretches range, in famifhed fwarms,

The fcented groves,

Or hounded forth, difhonor arms

In hungry droves.

Their gun's a burthen on their fhouder! They downa bide the ftink o' powther; Their bauldeft thought's a hank'ring fwither To flan' or rin,

Till fkelp-a fhot-they're aff, a' throwther,

To fave their skin.

But bring a Scotchman frae his hill, Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, Say, fuch is royal George's will,

An' there's the foe,

He has nae thought but how to kill

Twa at a blow.

Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him; Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him;

Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him :

An' when he fa's,

His lateft draught o' breathin lea's him

In faint huzzas.

Sages their folemn een may fleek,

An' raise a philofophic reek,

An' phyfically causes feek,

In clime an' feafon,

But tell me Whisky's name in Greek,

I'll tell the reason.

Scotland, my auld, refpected Mither! Tho' whyles ye moistify your leather, Till whare ye fit, on craps o' heather,

Ye tine your dam;

Freedom and Whisky gang thegither,

VOL. I.

Tak aff your dram!

C

HOL Y

THE

FAIR.

A robe of feeming truth and truft
Hid crafty obfervation;

And fecret hung, with poifon'd cruft,

The Dirk of Defamation:
A mask that like the gorget fhow'd,
Dye-varying on the pigeon;
And for a mantle large and broad,
He wrapt him in Religion:

UPON

I.

HYPOCRISY A-LA-MODE•

PON a fimmer Sunday morn, When Nature's face is fair,

I walked forth to view the corn,

An' fnuff the caller air,

The rifing fun, owre Galfton muirs,

Wi' glorious light was glintin ;

The hares were hirplin down the furs,

The lav'rocks they were chantin

Fu' fweet that day.

* Holy Fair is a common phrafe in the Weft of Scotland for

a facramental occafion.

II.

As lightfomely I glowr'd abroad,

To fee a scene fae gay,

Three Hizzies, early at the road,

Came fkelpin up the way.

Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black,
But ane wi' lyart lining;

The third, that gaed a wee a-back,

Was in the fashion fhining

III.

Fu' gay that day,

The twa appear'd like fifters twin,

In feature, form, an' claes;
Their vifage wither'd, lang an' thin,
An' four as ony flaes:

The third cam up. hap-step-an'-loup,
As light as ony lambie,

An' wi' a curchie low did floop,

As foon as e'er fhe faw me,

'I think ye feem to ken me;

I'm fure I've feen that bonie face,

But yet I canna name ye.'
Quo' fhe, an' laughin as fhe fpak,
An' taks me by the hauns,
Ye, for my fake, hae gin the feck

Of a' the ten commauns

A fcreed fome day.

V.

My name is Fun-your cronie dear,

The nearest friend ye hae An' this is Superftition here,

An' that's Hypocrify.

I'm gaun to ******** Holy Fair,
To spend an hour in daffin :

Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair,

We will get famous laughin

VI.

At them this day.'

Quoth I, 'With a' my heart, I'll do't,

I'll get my Sunday fark on,

An' meet you on the holy spot;
Faith we'fe hae fine remarkin!'

Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time,
An' foon I made me ready;

For roads were clad, frae fide to fide,

Wi' monie a wearie body,

In droves that day.

VII.

Here, farmers gafh, in ridin graith,

Gaed hoddin by their cotters;

There fwankies young, in braw braid-claith,

Are fpringing owre the gutters,

The laffes, fkelpin barefit, thrang,

In filks and fcarlets glitter;

Wi' fweet-milk cheese, in monie a whang,

An' farls, bak'd wi' butter,

Fu' crump that day.