There's wit there, ye'll get there, Ye'll find na other where. But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts! (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes, And flatt'ry I detest ;) This life has joys for you and I; And joys that riches ne'er could buy; And joys the very best. There's a' the pleasures o' the heart, Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part, It warms me, it charms me, To mention but her name: It heats me, it beets me, And sets me a' on flame! IX. O, all ye Pow'rs who rule above! When heart-corroding care and grief Deprive my soul of rest, Her dear idea brings relief O hear my fervent pray'r: X. All hail, ye tender feelings dear! Long since, this world's thorny ways Fate still has blest me with a friend, And oft a more endearing band, A tie more tender still. It lightens, it brightens, To meet with, and greet with, My Davie or my Jean. XI. O, how that name inspires my style! The ready measure rins as fine, And then he'll hilch, and stilt, and jimp, An' rin an unco fit: But lest then, the beast then, Should rue this hasty ride, I'll light now, and dight now, AULD NEEBOR, TO THE SAME. I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor For my puir, silly, rhymin' clatter, Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle; Till bairns' bairns kindly cuddle Your auld gray hairs. But, Davie, lad, I'm red ye're glaikit; Sic hauns as you sud ne'er be faikit, For me, I'm on Parnassus' brink, Rivin the words tae gar them clink; An whyles, but ay owre late, I think Braw sober lessons. Of a' the thoughtless sons o' man, O' rhymin' clink, The devil-haet, that I sud ban, Nae thought, nae view, nae scheme o' l vin', Then hiltie, skiltie, we gae scrievin', Leeze me on rhyme! it's ay a treasure, Tho' rough an raploch be her measure, Haud tae the Muse, my daintie Davie! The warl' may play you monie a shavie, But for the Muse, she'll never leave ye, Tho' e'er sae puir; Na, ev'n tho' limpin wi' the spavie Frae door to door. 15 EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK, AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD, April 1, 1785. WHILE briers an' woodbines budding green, This freedom in an unknown frien On fasteen-e'en we had a rockin, At length we had a hearty yokin There was ae sang, amang the rest, It thrill'd the heart-strings thro' the breast, I've scarce heard aught describe sae weel They told me 'twas an odd kind cpiel |