TO A LOUSE:

ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET,
AT CHURCH.

HA! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly:

I canna say but ye strunt rarely

Owre gauze and lace;

Though faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,
How dare ye set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a lady?

Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle Wi' ither kindred, jumpin cattle,

In shoals and nations

;

Whare horn or bane ne'er dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now haud ye there, ye 're out o' sight,
Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight;
Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right

Till ye 've got on it,

The vera tapmost, towering height

O' Miss's bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump and gray as onie grozet ;

O for some rank, mercurial rozet,

Or fell, red smeddum,

I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o 't,

Wad dress your droddum!

I wad na been surprised to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,

On 's wyliecoat;

But Miss's fine Lunardi! fie,

How dare ye do 't?

O Jenny, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed

The blastie's makin! Thae winks and finger ends, I dread, Are notice takin!

O wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,

And foolish notion:

What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
And ev'n Devotion !

BURN S.

HALLOWEEN,

AND

OTHER POEMS.