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Ye'll get the best o’ moral works,
Morality, thou deadly bane,
No-stretch a point to catch a plack;
Ply ev'ry art o' legal thieving;
Learn three-mile pray’rs, an' half-mile
graces, Wi' weel-spread looves, an' lang, wry faces ; Grunt up a folemn, lengthen'd groan, And damn a' parties but your own; I'll warrant then, ye’re nae Deceiver, A steady, sturdy, staunch Believer.
Oye wha leave the springs of C-lv-n, For gumlie dubs of your ain delvin ! Ye fons of Heresy and Error, Ye'll some day squeel in quaking terror! When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath, And in the fire throws the sheath; When Ruin, with his sweeping befom, Just frets till Heav'n commission gies him :
While o'er the Harp pale Mis’ry moans,
Your pardon, Sir, for this digression,
So, Sir, you see 'twas nae daft vapour,
Then patronize them wi' your favour,
For prayin I hae little skill o't;
May ne'er Misfortune's gowling bark, • Howl thro' the dwelling o’the Clerk!
May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart, * For that fame gen'rous fpirit smart !
May K******'s far-honoured name • Lang beet his hymeneal flame,
Till H*******s, at least a dizen, · Are frae their nuptial labours risen: * Five bonnie Lasses round their table, * And seven braw Fellows, stout an' able,
To serve their King and Country weel, • By word, or pen, or pointed steel ! • May Health and Peace, with mutual rays, Shine on the ev'ning o' his days ; E 4
• Till his wee, curlie John's ier-oe,
I will not wind a lang conclusion, Wi' complimentary effusion : But whilft your wishes and endeavours, Are bleft with Fortune's smiles and favours, I am, Dear Sir, with zeal moft fervent, Your much indebted, humble servant.
But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) That iron-hearted carl, Want, Attended in his grim advances, By fad mistakes, and black mischances, While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him, Make you as poor a dog as I am, Your humble servant then no more ; For who would humbly serve the Poor! But, by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n!