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An hardly in a winter's feafon,.

E'er fpier her price..

WAE worth that brandy, burning trash!

Fell fource o' monie a pain an' brash!

Twins monie a poor, doylt, drunken hafh,
O' half his days;

An' fends, befide, auld Scotland's cafh

To her warít faes

YE Scots, wha wifh auld Scotland well!

Ye chief, to you my tale I tell,

Poor placklefs devils like myfel!

It fets you ill,

Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,

Or foreign gill.

MAY gravels round his blather wrench,

An'

An' gouts torment him inch by inch,

Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch

O' four difdain,

Out owre a glafs o' whisky punch

Wi' honeft men.

O Whisky! four o' plays an' pranks!

Accept a Bardie's humble thanks!

When wanting thee, what tunless cranks

Are my poor verfes !

Thou comes- -they rattle i' their ranks

At ither's a-s!

THEE, Ferintosh! O fadly loft!

Scotland lament frae coast to coaft!

Now colic grips, an' barkin hoaft

May kill us a'

For loyal Forbes charter'd boaft

Is ta'en awa?

THAE

THAE curft horfe-leeches o' th' excife,

Wha mak the Whisky ftells their prize!

Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice!

There, feize the blinkers!

An' bake them up in brunstane pies

For poor d-n'd drinkers.

FORTUNE! if thou'll but gie me ftill Hale breeks, a fcone, an' Whisky gill,

An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,

Tak' a' the rest,

An' deal't about as thy blind fkill

Directs thee best.

VOL. I.

D.

THE

THE AUTHOR'S

EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER*

TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES IN THE

HOUSE OF COMMONS.

Dearest of Distillation! last and best!

How art thou lost!

PARODY ON MILTON.

YE Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squires,

Wha represent our brughs an' fhires,

An' doucely manage our affairs

In parliament,

To

*This was wrote before the Act anent the Scotch Distilleries, of session 1786: for which Scotland and the Author return their most grateful thanks.

To you a fimple Bardie's prayers

Are humbly fent.

ALAS! my roupet mufe is hearfe!

Your Honor's hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce

To fee her fittin on her a--

Low i' the duft,

An' fcriechin out profaic verfe,

An' like to burst!

TELL them wha hae the chief direction,

Scotland an' me's in great affliction,

E'er fin, they laid that curft restriction

On Aquavitae ;

An' rouse them up to ftrong conviction.

An' move their pity.

STAND forth, an' tell yon Premier Youth,

The honeft open naked truth:

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