So

For a' that, and a' that,

And twice as meikle's a' that;
My dearest blude, to do them gude,
They're welcome till't, for a' that.

RECITATIVO.

sung the bard-and Nansie's wa's Shook with a thunder of applause,

Re-echo'd from each mouth;

They toom'd their pocks, and pawn'd their duds, They scarcely left to co'er their fuds,

To quench their lowan drouth.

Then owre again, the jovial thrang
The poet did request,

To lowse his pack, and wale a sang,
A ballad o' the best;

He, rising, rejoicing,

Between his twa Deborahs,

Looks round him, and found them
Impatient for the chorus.

AIR.

TUNE,- Jolly mortals, fill your glasses.'

SEE the smoking bowl before us,

Mark our jovial ragged ring;

Round and round take up the chorus,
And in raptures let us sing:

CHORUS.

A fig for those by law protected!
Liberty's a glorious feast!
Courts for cowards were erected,
Churches built to please the priest.

What is title? what is treasure?
What is reputation's care?
If we lead a life of pleasure,
"Tis no matter, how or where!

A fig, &c.

With the ready trick and fable,
Round we wander all the day;
And at night, in barn or stable,
Hug our doxies on the hay.

A fig, &c.

Does the train-attended carriage Thro' the country lighter rove? Does the sober bed of marriage Witness brighter scenes of love? A fig, &c.

Life is all a variorum,

We regard not how it goes; Let them cant about decorum Who have characters to lose.

A fig, &c.

Here's to budgets, bags, and wallets! Here's to all the wandering train! Here's our ragged brats and callets! One and all cry out, Amen!

A fig, &c.

THE AULD FARMER'S

NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION

TO

His auld Mare Maggie,

ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL
IN THE NEW YEAR.

A Guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie:
Tho' thou's howe-backit, now, an' knaggie,
I've seen the day,

Thou could hae gane like onie staggie
Out-owre the lay.

Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff, an' crazy,
An' thy auld hide's as white's a daisy,
I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glaizie,
A bonnie gray :

He should been tight that daur't to raize thee,
Ance in a day.

Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve, an' swank,
An' set weel down a shapely shank,
As e'er tread yird;

An' could hae flown out-owre a stank,
Like onie bird.

It's now some nine-an'-twenty year,
Sin' thou was my guid-father's meere ;
He gied me thee, o' tocher clear,

An' fifty mark;

Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear,

An' thou was stark.

When first I gaed to woo my Jenny, Ye then was trottin wi' your minnie: ye was trickie, slee, an' funnie,

Tho'

Ye ne'er was donsie ; But hamely, tawie, quiet, an' cannie, An' unco sonsie.

That day ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride,
When ye bure hame my bonnie bride;
An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride,
Wi' maiden air!

Kyle Stewart I could bragged wide,
For sic a pair.

Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hobble,
An' wintle like a saumont-coble,
That day ye was a jinker noble,

For heels an' win'!

An' ran them till they a' did wauble,
Far, far behin’.

When thou an' I were young and skeigh,
An' stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,
How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skreigh,
An' tak the road!

Town's bodies ran, and stood abeigh,

An' ca't thee mad.

When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow,
We took the road aye like a swallow:
At Brooses thou had ne'er a fellow,

For pith an' speed;

But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollow,

Whare'er thou gaed.

The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle,
Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle;
But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle,
An' gart them whaizle;

Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle
O' saugh or hazel.

Thou was a noble fittie-lan',
As e'er in tug or tow was drawn!
Aft thee an' I, in aught hours gaun,

On guid March weather,

Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han'

For days thegither.

Thou never braindg't, an' fech't, an' fliskit,
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,
An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket,
Wi' pith an' pow'r,

Till spritty knowes wad rair't and risket,
An' slypet owre.

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep, An' threaten'd labour back to keep,

I gied thy cog a wee-bit heap

Aboon the timmer;

I ken'd my Maggie wadna sleep

For that, or simmer.

In cart or car thou never reestit;

The steyest brae thou wad hae face't it:
Thou never lap, and sten't, and breastit,
Then stood to blaw;

But just thy step a wee thing hastit,

Thou snoov't awa.