The twa appear'd like sisters twin, The third cam up, hap-step-an'-lowp, An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, As soon as e'er she saw me, Fu' kind that day. Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, 'Sweet lass, Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck A screed some day. My name is Fun-your cronie dear, An' this is Superstition here, An' that's Hypocrisy. I'm gaun to ********* Holy Fair, To spend an hour in daffin: Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair, We will get famous laughin At them this day.' Quoth I, With a' my heart, I'll do't; I'll get my Sunday's sark on, An' meet you on the holy spot; Faith we'se hae fine remarkin!' Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time, For roads were clad, frae side to side, In droves that day. Here farmers gash, in ridin graith Gaed hoddin by their cotters: There, swankies young, in braw braid-claith, In silks an' scarlets glitter; Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in monie a whang, An' farls bak'd wi' butter Fu' crump that day. When by the plate we set our nose, On ev'ry side they're gathrin, Some carrying dales, some chairs an' stools, An' some are busy blethrin Right loud that day. Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs, Are blinkin at the entry. Here sits a raw of tittlin jades, Wi' heaving breast and bare neck, An' there a batch of wabster lads, Blackguarding frae K -ck, Here some are thinkin on their sins, Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, To chairs that day. O happy is that man' an' blest! Comes clinkin down beside him! Which, by degrees, slips round her neck, An's loof upon her bosom, Unken'd that day. Now a' the congregation o'er Is silent expectation; For ****** speels the holy door, Wi' tidings o' damnation. Should Hornie, as in ancient days, The vera sight o' *****'s face, Wi' fright that day. Hear how he clears the points o' faith Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, His lengthen'd chin, his turn'd-up snout, On sic a day! But, hark! the tent has chang'd its voice; They canna sit for anger. An' aff the godly pour in thrangs, To gie the jars an' barrels A lift that day. What signifies his barren shine Or some auld pagan Heathen, That's right that day. In guid time comes an antidote While Common-Sense has ta'en the road, Fast, fast, that day. 2 A street so called, which faces the tent in Wee * *** *, niest, the Guard relieves, An' Orthodoxy raibles, Tho' in his heart he weel believes, An' thinks it auld wives' fables: But, faith! the birkie wants a Manse, So, cannily he hums them: Altho' his carnal wit an' sense Like hafflin's-ways o'ercomes him At times that day. Now butt an' ben, the Change-house fills, Here's crying out for bakes and gills, They raise a din, that in the end Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. Leeze-me on Drink! it gies us mair I kindles wit, it waukens lair, It never fails, on drinking deep, By night or day. The lads an' lasses, blythely bent |