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And gie him o'er the Rock to feed,

And punish each tranfgrefsion ; Especial, rams that cross the breed, Gie them fufficient threshin,

Spare them nae day.

Now auld K*********, cock thy tail,

An' toss thy horns fu' canty;
Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale,

Because thy pasture's scanty:
For lapfu's large o' gospel-kail

Shall fill thy crib in plenty,
An' runts o' grace they pick an’ wale,
No gi en by way o' dainty,

But ilka day.

Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep,

To think upon our Zion;
And hing our fiddles up to sleep,

Like baby-clouts a-dryin :
Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep,

And o'er the thairms be tryin ;
Oh, rare! to see our elbucks wheep,
And a like lamb-tails flyin.

Fu' fast this day!

VIII. Lang Patronage, wi' rod o' airn,

Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin, As lately F-nw-ck, fair forfairs,

Has proven to it's ruin:


Our Patron, honest man! G,

He saw mischief was brewin: And like a godly, elect bairn, He's wald us out a true ane,

And found this day.

Now R******* harangue nae mair,

But steek your gab for ever ;
Or try the wicked town of A

For there they'll think you clever ;
Or, nae reflection on your

Ye may commence a Shaver;
Or to the N-th-rt-n repair,
And turn a carpet-weaver

Aff-hand this day

M***** and you were just a match,

We never had fic twa drones;
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,

Just like a winkin' baudrons ;.
And ay he catch'd the tither wretch,

To fry them in his caudrons ; But now his Honor maun detach Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons,

Faft, faft this day.

See, see auld Orthodoxy's fąęs,

She's swingein thro' the city!
Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays !
I vow it's unco pretty :

she says,

There, Learning, with his Greekish face,

Grunts out fome Latin ditty; And Common Sense is

gaun, To mak' to Jamie Beattie

Her plaint this day.

But there's Morality himsel,

Embracing all opinions ;
Hear, how he gies the tither yell,

Between his twa companions !
See, how he peels the skin an’ fell

As ane were peelin onions !
Now there, they're packed aff to h-ll,
And banish'd our dominions,

Henceforth this day.

O happy day! rejoice, rejoice!

Come, bouse about the porter !
Morality's demure decoys

Shall here nae mair find quarter : M"*******, R*****, are the boys

That Heresy can torture ; They'll gie her on a rape a hoyfe, And cowe her measure shorter

By th' head some day,

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,

And here's, for a conclusion,

To ev'ry New Light* mother's fon,

From this time forth, Confusion :
If mair they deave us wi' their din,

Or Patronage intrusion,
We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin,
W'ell rin them aff in fusion

Like oil, some day,

* New Light is a cant-phrase, in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has de fended so ftrenuously.



To the Rev. Mr.

on bis text, MALACHI, ch. iv. vers. 2. • And they shall go forth, and grow up, like CALVES of the stall.'

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IGHT, Sir! your text I'll prove it true
Tho' Heretics may laugh ;
For instance, there's yoursel just now,

God knows, an unco Calf!

And should some Patron be so kind,

As bless you wi'a kirk,
I doubt na, Sir, but then we'll find,

Ye're still as great a Stirk !

But if the Lover's raptur'd hour,

Shall ever be your lot,
Forbid it, ev'ry heav'nly Power,

You e'er should be a Stot!

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