We've nae use for a deil ava, If that he disna get them; And hounded out a noble race, Sadly they left their mountains blue, To go they knew not whither, Or far amid Canadian wilds, Sigh for their hills of heather; Tell county lairds ye'll tolerate Try whether christianity Or mammon is the stronger. Explore the dreary vaults o' toil, Tho' ere so deaf they'll hear you, And a' the lazy vampire crew, Will baith respect and fear you. And if ye canna humanize The heartless purse-proud revers, Ye'll cheer at least the drooping hearts O let the church be as of old, 66 The sanctuary of sorrow." Leave forms to flunkeys and to fools, They never made a true man, Preach christianity as 'tis A thing intensely human; Be as your lord and master was, The shield of the forsaken, And dying faith will spread her wings, And into life awaken. THE FLOWER OF THE SPEED. Where Speed rolls her waters Through quiet green pastures There lives a fair maiden No cold marble beauty, But a sweet mortal maiden Who smiles upon me; A creature of feeling, Of hopes and of fears, Of joys and of sorrows, Of smiles and of tears. She's fair as the gowans On Scotia's green braes, Of youth's happy days; Her ringlets are golden, Her eyes are of blue, And the heart in her bosom Is tender and true. That bosom's a fountain Of thoughts pure and fair, And the streams of affection Are aye gushing there; And long by that fountain May peace spread her wing, And joy love to linger, And hope love to sing. And ne'er may she sigh O'er affection's decay, O'er loves and o'er friendships All faded away; And faithful the lover Who's favoured to lead, To love's holy altar, The Flower of the Speed. THE GENTLEMAN. It isna goud, it isna gear, It isna polish, art or lair, That makes the gentleman. Auld nature stamps him in her mint, Its no the outward sleek attire, But its the living heart within, I've met him in a hame spun coat, And shook his hardened haun, I've met him in a cozie bield, The laird o' a' the lan. |