THE CALF.

TO THE REV. MR.

ON HIS TEXT, MALACHI, CH,

Iv. v. 2 — “ AND THEY SHALL GO FORTH, AND GROW

UP, LIKE CALVES OF THE STALL."

RIGHT, sir! your text I'll prove it true,

Tho' heretics may laugh;

For instance, there's yoursel' just now,

God knows, an unco calf!

And should some patron be so kind,
As bless you wi' a kirk,

I doubt na, sir, but then we'll find
Ye're still as great a stirk!

But, if the lover's raptur'd hour
Should ever be your lot,
Forbid it, ev'ry heav'nly Power,
You e'er should be a stot!

Tho' when some kind, connubial dear,
Your but-and-ben adorns,

The like has been, that you may wear

A noble head of horns!

And in your lug, most rev'rend James,
To hear you roar and rowte,

Few men o' sense will doubt your claims
To rank amang the nowte.

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead, Below a grassy hillock,

Wi' justice they may mark your head "Here lies a famous Bullock!”

HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER.

◊ THOU, wha in the heavens dost dwell,
Wha, as it pleases best thysel',
Sends ane to heaven and ten to hell,
A' for thy glory,

And no for ony guid or ill

They've done afore thee!

I bless and praise thy matchless might, When thousands thou hast left in night, That I am here afore thy sight,

For gifts an' grace,

A burnin' an' a shinin' light,

To a' this place.

What was I, or my generation,
That I should get such exaltation?
I, wha deserve sic just damnation,
For broken laws,

Five thousand years 'fore my creation,
Thro' Adam's cause.

When frae my mither's womb I fell,

Thou might hae plung'd me into hell

To gnash my gums, to weep and wail,
In burnin' lake,

Whare damned devils roar and yell,
Chain'd to a staik.

Yet I am here, a chosen sample,
To show thy grace is great an' ample;
I'm here a pillar in thy temple,

Strong as a rock,

A guide, a buckler, an' example
To a' thy flock.

O Lord, thou kens what zeal I bear, When drinkers drink, and swearers swear, And singin' here, and dancin' there,

Wi' great an' sma':

For I am keepit by thy fear,

Free frae them a'.

But yet, O Lord! confess I must,
At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust;
An' sometimes, too, wi' warldly trust
Vile self gets in!

But thou remembers we are dust,
Defil'd in sin.

Besides I farther maun allow,
Wi' Lizzie's lass, three times I trow;
But, Lord, that Friday I was fou,

When I came near her,

Or else, thou kens, thy servant true Wad ne'er hae steer'd her.

Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn
Beset thy servant e'en and morn,

Lest he owre high and proud should turn,
'Cause he's sae gifted;

If sae, thy han' maun e'en be borne,
Until thou lift it.

Lord, bless thy chosen in this place,
For here thou hast a chosen race;
But God confound their stubborn face,
And blast their name,

Wha bring thy elders to disgrace,
An' public shame.

Lord, mind G-n H-n's deserts,
He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at carts,
Yet has sae monie takin' arts,

Wi' grit an' sma',

Frae God's ain priest the people's hearts
He steals awa'.

An' whan he chasten'd him therefor,
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore,
An' set the warld in a roar

O' laughin' at us;

Curse thou his basket and his store,
Kail an' potatoes.

Lord, hear my carnest cry an' pray'r,
Against that presbyt'ry o' Ayr;

Thy strong right hand, Lord, make it b. e,
Upo' their heads !

Lord, weigh it down, an' dinna spare,
For their misdeeds.

O Lord, my God, that glib-tongu'd An,
My very heart an' saul are quakin',
To think how we stood sweatin', shakin',
An' d—d wi' dread,

While he, wi' hinging lips and snakin',
Held up his head.

Lord, in the day of vengeance try him,
Lord, visit them wha did employ him,
An' pass not in thy mercy by 'em,
Nor hear their pray'r;

But for thy people's sake, destroy 'em,
And dinna spare.

But, Lord, remember me and mine
Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine,
That I for gear and grace may shine,
Excell'd by nane;

An' a' the glory shall be thine.
Amen, Amen.

EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE.

HERE Holy Willie's sair-worn clay
Takes up its last abode;

His saul has taen some other way,
I fear the left-hand road.

Stop! there he is as sure's a gun,
Poor silly body, see him;