Bids bauld to bear the gree awa', Wi' a' this graith,
Whan bienly clad wi' shell fu' braw O' gude Braid Claith.
Waesuck for him wha has nae fek o't! For he 's a gowk they 're sure to geck at, A chield that ne'er will be respekit
While he draws breath,
Till his four quarters are bedeckit Wi' gude Braid Claith.
On Sabbath days the barber spark, Whan he has done wi' scrapin' wark, Wi' siller broachie in his sark
Gangs trigly, faith,
Or to the Meadows or the Park,
In gude Braid Claith.
Weel might ye trow, to see them there, That they to shave your haffits bare, Or curl an' sleek a pickle hair,
Wud be right laith, Whan pacing wi' a gawsy air In gude Braid Claith.
If ony mettled stirrah grien For favour frae a lady's ein, He mauna care for being seen Before he sheath
His body in a scabbard clean
O' gude Braid Claith;
For gin he comes wi' coat threed-bare,
A feg for him she winna care,
But crook her bonny mou' fu' sair,
An' scald him baith:
Wooers shou'd ay their travel spare
Braid Claith lends fouk an unco heese, Makes mony kail-worms butterflees,
Gies mony a doctor his degrees
For little skaith:
In short, you may be what you please Wi' gude Braid Claith.
For thof ye had as wise a snout on
As Shakespeare or Sir Isaac Newton, Your judgment fouk wud hae a doubt on, I'll tak' my aith,
Till they cou'd see ye wi' a suit on
O' gude Braid Claith.
ODE TO THE GOWDSPINK
Frae fields whare Spring her sweets has blawn Wi' caller verdure o'er the lawn, The gowdspink comes in new attire, The brawest 'mang the whistling choir, That, ere the sun can clear his een, Wi' glib notes sane the simmer's green. Sure Nature herried mony a tree, For spraings and bonny spats to thee; Nae mair the rainbow can impart Sic glowing ferlies o' her art,
Whase pencil wrought its freaks at will On thee, the sey-piece o' her skill.
Nae mair through straths in simmer dight We seek the rose to bless our sight, Or bid the bonny wa'-flowers blaw Whare yonder ruins crumblin' fa'; Thy shining garments far outstrip The cherries upo' Hebe's lip,
And fool the tints that Nature chose To busk and paint the crimson rose.
'Mang men, wae 's-heart! we aften find The brawest drest want peace of mind, While he that gangs wi' ragged coat Is weel contentit wi' his lot. Whan wand wi' glewy birdlime's set,
To steal far aff your dautit mate, Blyth wad ye change your cleething gay In lieu of lav'rock's sober grey.
In vain thro' woods you sair may ban Th' envious treachery of man, That, wi' your gowden glister ta’en, Still haunts you on the simmer's plain, And traps you 'mang the sudden fa's O' winter's dreary dreepin' snaws. Now steekit frae the gowany field, Frae ilka fav'rite houff and bield, But mergh, alas! to disengage
Wha thraw their mou's and take the dorts: But, reft of thee, fient flee we care
For a' that life ahint can spare.
The gowdspink, that sae lang has kenned
Thy happy sweets (his wonted friend),
Her sad confinement ill can brook
In some dark chamber's dowy nook;
JOHN SKINNER
TULLOCHGORUM
Come gie's a sang! Montgomery cried, And lay your disputes all aside; What signifies 't for folk to chide
For what's been done before 'em?
Let Whig and Tory all agree,
Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,
For blythe and cheery we's be a,'
As lang as we hae breath to draw,
And dance, till we be like to fa', The reel o' Tullochgorum!
There needs na be sae great a phrase Wi' dringing dull Italian lays; I wadna gi'e our ain strathspeys
For half a hundred score o' 'em: They're douff and dowie at the best, Douff and dowie, douff and dowie, They're douff and dowie at the best, Wi' a' their variorum;
They're douff and dowie at the best, Their allegros and a' the rest; They canna please a Scottish taste,
Compared wi' Tullochgorum.
Let warldly minds themselves oppress Wi' fears of want and double cess, And sullen sots themselves distress Wi' keeping up decorum: Shall we sae sour and sulky sit? Sour and sulky, sour and sulky, Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Like auld Philosophorum?
And dainties a great store o' 'em! May peace and plenty be his lot, Unstained by any vicious spot, And may he never want a groat
That's fond o' Tullochgorum!
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