For thae frank, rantin, ramblin billies, Fient haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows; Or fpeakin lightly o' their limmer, Or fhootin o' a hare or moor-cock. The ne'er a bit they're ill to poor folk. BUT will ye tell me, Mafter Caesar, Sure great folk's life's a life o' pleasure ; Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can feer them, The vera thought o't need na fear them. CESAR. L-D, man, were ye but whyles whare I am, The gentles ye wad ne'er envy 'em. It's true, they need na ftarve or sweat, Tho' winter's cauld, or fimmer's heat; VOL, I. C They've 1 They've nae fair wark to craze their banes,. An' fill auld age wi' grips an' granes: But human bodies are fic fools, For a' their colleges and schools, That when na real ills perplex them, They make enow themfels to vex them, His acre's till'd he's right enough; Her dizzen's done, fhe's unco weel: Wi' ev'ndown want o' wark are curft. Their nights unquiet, lang, an' restless, An' even their sports, their balls an' races, The joy can fcarcely reach the heart. Then fowther a' in deep debauches; Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' wh-ring, Nieft day their life is paft enduring. The Ladies arm-in-arm in clusters, As great and gracious a' as fifters; Stake on a chance a farmer's ftackyard, An' cheat like onie unhang'd blackguard. THERE'S fome exceptions, man an' woman; But this is Gentry's life in common. By this, the fun was out o' fight, When up they gat, and fhook their lugs, Refolv'd to meet fome ither day. SCOTCH SCOTCH DRINK. Gie bim strong drink, until he wink, An' liquar guid to fire bis bluid That's prest wi' grief an' care; There let him bouse, and deep carouse, Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, Till be forgets his loves or debts, An' minds bis griefs no more. SOLOMON'S PROVERBS, XXXI. 6, 7. LET other Poets raife a fracas. 'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drunken Bacchus, An' crabbit names an' ftories wrack us, |