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Fays, Spunkies, Kelpies, a', they can explain
them, And ev’n the vera deils they brawly ken
Auld Brig appear'd of Ancient Pictish race,
The vera wrinkles Gothic in his face :
He seem'd as he wiTime had warsti'd lang, Yet teughly doure, he bade an unco bang. New Brig was buskit in a braw new coat, That he, at Lon’on, frae ane Adams, got ; In's hand five taper staves as smooth's a bead, Wi’virls and whirlygigums at the head, The Goth was stalking round with anxious
search, Spying the time-worn flaws in ev'ry arch; It chanc'd his new-come neeber took his e'e, And e'en a vex'd and angry heart had he!
Wi' thieveless fneer to see his modish mien,
He, down the water, gies him this guideen
I DOUBT na, frien', ye'll think ye're nae sheep
Ance ye were streekit o'er frae bank to
But gin ye be a brig as auld as me,
boddle, Some fewer whigmeleeries in your noddle.
AULD Vandal, ye but thew your little mense, Juft much about it wi' your scanty sense ;
Will your poor, narrow foot-path of a street, Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they
Your ruin'd, forinless bulk o'stane an' lime,
Compare wi' bonie Brigs o' modern time?
There's meni o'taste wou'd tak the Ducat
Tho' they should cast the vera fark and
E'er they would grate their feelings wi' the
Of fic an ugly, Gothic hulk as you.
CONCEITED gowk !puff'd up wi' windy pride; This mony a year I've stood the food an' tide;
* A noted ford, just above the Auld Brig.
And tho'wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn, I'll be a Brig, when ye're a shapeless caira! As yet ye little ken about the matter,
But twa-three winters will inform
When heavy, dark, continued a'. day rains Wi’ deepening deluges o'erflow the plains ; When from the hills where springs the braw
ling Coil, Or stately Lugar's mofly fountains boil,
Or where the Greenock winds his moorland
course, Or haunted Garpal* draws his feeble source,
* The banks of Garpal Water is one of the few places in the West of Scotland, where those fancy scaring beings, known by the name of Gbaists, still continue pertinaciously to inhabit.
blust'ring winds and spotting
In mony a torrent down the sna-broo rowes ;
While crashing ice, borne on the roaring
Speat, Sweeps dams, an' mills, an' brigs, a' to the
And from Glenbuck, down to the Ratton
Auld Ayr is just one lengthend tumbling
Then down ye'll hurl, deil nor ye never rise !!
And dash the gumlie jaups up to the pouring
* The source of the river of Ayr.
* A small landing place above the large key.