LUATH. THEY'RE nae fae wretched's ane wad think;; Tho' constantly on poortith's brink; THEN chance an' fortune are sae guided, They're ay in less or mair provided; THE dearest comfort o' their lives, Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives; The prattling things are just their pride, That sweetens a' their fire-fide. AN' whyles twalpennie worth o' nappy Can mak the bodies unco happy; They They lay afide their private cares, As bleak-fac'd Hollowmas returns, They get the jovial, ranting kirns, Love blinks, Wit flaps, an' social Mirth, THAT merry day the year begins, They bar the door on frosty winds; The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream, An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam; The The Iuntin pipe, an' sneeshin mill, Are handed round wi' right guid will; The cantie auld folks, crackin croufe, STILL is't owre true that ye hae faid, Sic game is now owre aften play'd.. O' decent, honeft fawsont folk, CÆSAR CÆSAR. HAITH, lad, ye little ken about it: Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading; Or may be in a frolic daft, To Hague or Calais takes a waft,. THERE, at Vienna or Versailles, He rives his father's auld entails; Or by Madrid he takes the rout, To thrum guitars, and fetch'd wi' nowt Or down Italian vista startles, Wh-re Wh-re-hunting among groves o' myrtles; Then boufes drumly German water, To mak himsel look fair and fatter, LUATH. HECH man! dear firs! is that the gate They waste sae mony a braw estate! O WOULD they stay aback frae courts, For |