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And in kirk-yards renew their leagues,
Owre howkit dead.
When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
By your direction,
To their destruction.
An' aft your moss-traversing spunkies Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is : The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkies
Delude his eyes,
Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
Ne'er mair to rise.
When masons' mystic word an' grip,
Or, strange to tell !
Lang syne, in Eden's bonnie yard, When youthfu’ lovers first were pair’d, An' all the soul of love they shar’d,
The raptur'd hour, Sweet on the fragrant, flow'ry swaird,
In shady bow'r :
Then you, ye auld, snec-drawing dog!
(Black be you fa !) Au' gied the infant warld a shog,
'Maist ruin'd a'.
But a’ your doings to rehearse,
Down to this time,
In prose or rhyme.
But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben!
Still hae a stake
I'm wae to think upo' yon den,
ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR
THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.
My son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump them aye thegither;
The Rigid WISE anither :
May hae some pyles o' caff in;
SOLOMON, Eccles. vii. 16.
YE wha are sae guid yoursel,
Sae pious and sae holy,
Ye’ve nought to do but mark and tell Your neebour's fauts and folly ! Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
Supply'd wi' store o' water, The heapet happer's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter.
Hear me, ye venerable Core,
As counsel for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door,
For glaikit Folly's portals;
Would here propone defences,
Their failings and mischances.
Ye see your state wi’ theirs compar'd
And shudder at the niffer,
What maks the mighty differ ?
That purity ye pride in,
Your better art o' hidin'.
Think, when your castigated pulse
Gies now and then a wallop,
That still eternal gallop :
Right on ye scud your sea-way :
It maks an unco leeway.
See Social life and Glee sit down,
All joyous and unthinking, Till, quite transmugrified, they're grown
Debauchery and Drinking :
Th' eternal consequences ;
Dainnation of expenses !
Ye ligh, exalted, virtuous Dames,
Ty'd up in godly laces,
Suppose a change o' cases;
A treacherous inclination –
Ye’re aiblins nae temptation.
Then gently scan your brother Man,
Still gentler sister Woman ; Tho' they may gang a
wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark,
The moving Why they do it;