Ae dreary, windy, winter-night, The stars shot down wi' sklentin' light, glancing Wi' you, mysel', I gat a fright Ayont the lough; Ye, like a rash-bush, stood in sight, The cudgel in my nieve did shake, When wi' an eldritch, stoor quaick — quaick Awa' ye squattered, like a drake, On whistling wings. rush fist [frightful-hoarse Let warlocks grim, and withered hags, And in kirk-yards renew their leagues excavated Thence countra wives, wi' toil and pain, By witching skill; And dawtit, twal-pint Hawkie's gaen petted-cow's As yell's the bill. milkless- bull Thence mystic knots mak great abuse, On young guidmer, fond, keen, and crouse, When the best wark-lume i' the house, Is instant made no worth a louse, When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord, And 'nighted travellers are allured And aft your moss-traversing spunkies Till in some miry slough he sunk is, When mason's mystic word and grip, The youngest brother ye wad whip Lang syne, in Eden's bonny yard, When youthfu' lovers first were paired, And all the soul of love they shared, The raptured hour, Sweet on the fragrant flowery swaird, Then you, ye auld sneck-drawing dog! Ye came to Paradise incog. And played on man a cursed brogue, (Black be your fa'!) And gied the infant warld a shog, 'Maist ruined a'. D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz, 2 trick shake bustle Wi' reekit duds, and reestit smoked clothes -- withered gizz, Ye did present your smootie phiz 'Mang better folk, And sklented on the man of Uzz Your spitefu' joke? hair And how ye gat him i' your thrall, 1 This verse ran originally as follows: Lang syne, in Eden's happy scene, A dancin', sweet, young handsome quean, glanced 2 "Sneck-drawing dog" expresses a stealthy, insidious person, who opens doors by drawing the sneck or latch un heard. And lows'd his ill-tongued, wicked scawl, scolding wife Was warst ava? But a' your doings to rehearse, Wad ding a Lallan tongue, or Erse, fighting Lowland And now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin', A certain bardie's rantin', drinkin', Some luckless hour will send him linkin' tumbling To your black pit; But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin', And cheat you yet. But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben! I'm wae to think upo' yon den, Even for your sake! dodging perhaps ON JOHN Dove, INNKEEPER, MAUCHLINE. HERE lies Johnny Pigeon; Wha e'er desires to ken, To some other warl' Maun follow the carl, For here Johnny Pigeon had nane! Strong ale was ablution, Small beer persecution, A dram was memento mori; But a full-flowing bowl Was the joy of his soul, And port was celestial glory. THE JOLLY BEGGARS: A CANTATA. This poem is understood to have been founded on the poet's observation of an actual scene which one night met his eye, when, in company with his friends John Richmond and James Smith, he dropped accidentally at a late hour into the humble, hostelry of Mrs. Gibson, more familiarly named Poosie Nansie. After witnessing much jollity amongst a company |