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For me! before a Monarch's face,
Ev'n tbere I winna flatter;
For neither Pension, Post, nor Place,
Am I your humble debtor:
So, nae reflection on Your Grace,
Your King Chip to bespatter ; There's monie waur been o' the Race,
And aiblins ane been better
Than You this day,
'Tis very true, my sov'reign King,
My skill may weel be doubted:
But Facts are cheels that winna ding,
An' downa be disputed:
Is e'en right reft an' clouted,
And now the third part of the string,
An' less, will gang about it
Than did ae day.
Far be't frae me that I aspire
To blame your Legislation,
Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire,
To rule this mighty nation;
But, faith! I muckle doubt, my Sire,
Ye've trusted Miniftration
To chaps, wha, in a barn or byre,
Wad better fill'd their station
Than courts yon day.
And onw ye’ve gien auld Britain peace,
Your fair taxation does her fleece,
Till she has scarce a tester:
For me, thank God, my life's a lease,
Nae bargain wearing faster,
I'the craft some day..
I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt,
When taxes he enlarges, (An' Will's a true guid fallow's Ge!,
A Name not Envy fpairges) That he intends to pay your debt,
An'lefsen a’ your charges; But God sake! let nae saving-fit Abridge your bonie Barges
An' Boats this day.
ADIEU my Liege! may Freedom geck
Beneath your high protection ;
And gie her for diffection!
In loyal, true affection,
My fealty an' subjection.
This great Birth-day.
Hari, Majesty most Excellent!
While Nobles strive to please Ye,
A fimple Bardie gies Ye?
Still higher may they heeze Ye
In bliss, till Fate some day is sent,
For ever to release Ye
Frae Gare that day.
For you, young Potentate o' W
I tell your Highness fairly,
I'm tauld ye’ré driving rarely ;
An' curse your folly fairly,