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So, ye may doucely fill a Throne,
For a' their clish-ma-claver :
There, Him * at Agincourt wha Thone,
Few better were or braver ;
And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir Jobnt,
Then, fwith! an' get a wife to hug,
* King Henry V. + Sir John Falstaff, Vide Shakespeare.
Ye've lately come athwart her;
Weel rigg’d for Venus barter;
Your hymeneal charter,
Come full that day,
Ye lastly, bonie bloffoms a',
Ye royal Lasses dainty,
Alluding to the News-paper account of a certain Royal Saia :lor's amour,
Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw,
An'gie you lads a plenty: But sneer na British boys awa',
For Kings are unco scant ay; An' German Gentles are but sma',
They're better just than want ay
On onie day.
God bless you a'! confider now,
Ye're unco muckle dautet;
But ere the course o' life be through,
be bitter fautet:
An' I hae seen their coggie fov,
That yet hae tarrow't at it;
But or the day was done, I trow,
The laggen they hae clautet
Fu' clean that day.
THE sun had clos'd the winter-day,
An' hunger’d Maukin taen her way
To kail-yards green,
While faithless snawş ilk step betray
Whare the has been.
The Thresher's weary flinging-tree,
The lee-lang day had tir'd me;
Fari' the West,
* Duan, a term of Ossians for the different divisions of a dia gressive Poem. See his Catb-Loda, vol. 2. of M'Pherson's Translation.
Ben i' the Spence, right pensivelie,
I gaed to rest.
THERE, lanely, by the ingle-cheek,
The auld, clay biggin; And heard the restless rattons squeak
About the riggin.
All in this mottie misty clime,
1 backward mus'd on wälted time,
How I had spent my youthfu' prime,
An' done nae-thing,
But ftringin blethers up in rhyme
For fools to fing.
Had I to guid advice but harkit, I might by this hae led a market,