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C Ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ S.

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HE Twa Dogs, A Tale
Scotch Drink
The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer to the
Scotch Representatives in the Houle of Com-

19 The Holy Fair

26 Death and Doctor Hornbook

36 The Brigs of Ayr The Ordination

54 The Calf

60 Address to the Deil The Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie 68 Poor Mailie's Elegy To J. S****

73 A Dream

81 The Vision

88 Address to the Unco Guid, or the Rigidly Righ

teous Tam Sainson's Elegy

103 Halloween

109 The Auld Farmer's New-Year Morning's Salutation to his Auld Mare Maggie

I 22 The Cotter's Saturday Night

127 To a Mouse A Winter Night

139 Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet The Lament

150 Despondency. An Ode

154 Man was made to Mourn. An Elegy

157 Winter. A Dirge

161 A Prayer, in the Prospect of Death

163 Stanzas on the fame occasion

165 Verses left at a Friend's House

167 The First Plalm

169 A Prayer

170 The First Six Verses of the Ninetieth pfalm 171 To a Mountain Daily

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C ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ S.

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179 183

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Page To Ruin

176 To Miss L. -, with Beattie's Poems for a Newyear's Gift

178 L'pifle to a young Friend On a Scoich Baru gone to the West Indies To a Haggis

186 A Dedication to G**** H*******, Esq. 188 To a Louse, on feeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church

19+ Address to Edinburgh

197 Fpifle to J. L*****, an old Scotch Bard To the fame

206 Epifle to W. S*****, Ochiltree Epiltle io J. R******, inclofing some Poems John Barleycorn. A Ballad

223 A Fragment. ! When Guildford good our Pilot flood,'

227 Song. It was upon a Lammas Night,' 231 Song, Now wettlin winds and Naught’ring guns,'233 Song, ‘Behinu yon hills where Stinchar flows, 235 Green grow thc Ralhes. A Fragment 237 Song, Again rejoicing Nature lees,'

239 Song, “The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,' 242 Song.'I'rom thee, Eliza, I must go,

244 The Farewell. To the Brethren of St. James's Lolge, Tarbolton

245 Song, No churchman ain I for to rail and to

write,' Epitaph on a celebrated Ruling Elder on a noisy Polemic

ib. on Wee Jobnie for the Author's Father

250 for R. A. Esq.

ib. for G. H. Elq.

ib. A Bard's Epitaph

258 The Gloffary

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'Twas

WAS in that place o' Scotland's isle,
That bears the name of Auld King Coil,
Upon a bonie day in June,
When wearing thro' the afternoon,
Twa Dogs, that were na thrang at hame,
Forgather'd ance upon a time.

The first I'll name, they ca'd him Cafar,
Was keepit for his Honor's pleasure ;
Vol. I.

B

His hair, his fize, his mouth, his lugs,
Shewd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs,
But walpit some place far abroad,
Where sailors gang to fish for Cod.

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar
Shew'd him the gentleman and scholar;
Bật though he was o'high degree,
The fient a pride nae pride had he,
But wad hae spent an hour carreflin,
Ev'n wi' a tinkler-gypsey's messin:
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,
Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er fae duddie,
But he wad stan't, as glad to see him,
An' ftroant on stanès an' hillocks wi' him,

The tither was a ploughman's collie, A rhyming, ranting, raving billie, Wha for his friend and comrade had him, And in his freaks had Luath ca’d him, After fome dog in Highland fang*, Was made lang syne, Lord knows how lang,

He was a gash an? faithfu' tyke,
As ever lap a fheugh or dike.
His honest, sonsie, baws'nt face,
Ay gat him friends in ilka place;
His breast was white, his touzie back
Wee! clad wi coat o'glossy black;

* Cuculiaa's deg in Ofian's Fingal.

His gaucie tail, wi' upward curl,
Hung owre his hurdies wi' a swirl.

Nae doubt but they were faio o'ither, An' unco pack an' thick thegither ; Wi' social nose whyles snuff’d and snowkit; Whyles mice and moudieworts they howkit; Whyles fcour’dawa in lang excursion, An' worry'd ither in diversion; Till tir'd at last wi' mony a farce, They sat them down upon their a—, An' there began a lang digression About the Lords o' the creation.

CESAR. I've often wonder'd, honest Luath, What sort o'life poor dogs like you have, An’ when the gentry's life I saw, What

way poor bodies liv'd ava.

Our Laird gets in his racked rents, His coals, his kain, an'a' his stents : He rifes when he likes himsel; His Aunkies answer at the bell ; He ca's his coach; he ca's his horse; He draws a bonie filken purse As lang's my tail, whare, thro’ the steeks, The yellow lettered Geordie keeks,

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