The hoary morns precede the sunny days, Mild, calm, serene, wide spreads 'the noon-tide blaze, To witness what I after shall narrate; Or whether, rapt in meditation high, He wandered out, he knew not where nor why ;) When lo! on either hand the list'ning bard, Our warlock rhymer instantly descry'd The Sprites that owre the Brigs of Ayr preside. (That bards are second-sighted is nae joke, And ken the lingo o' the sp'ritual folk; A noted tavern at the Auld Brig end. † The two steeples ‡ The goshawk, or falcon. Fays, Spunkies, Kelpies, a', they can explain them, The Goth was stalking round with anxious search, AULD BRIG. I doubt na, frien', ye'll think ye're nae sheep-shank Ance ye were streekit o'er from bank to bank! But gin ye be a brig as auld as me, Tho' faith, that day I doubt ye'll never see; There'll be, if that date come, I'll wad a boddle, NEW BRIG. Auld Vandal, ye but show your little mense, Just much about it wi' your scanty sense; Will your poor, narrow foot-path of a street, Where twa wheelbarrows tremble when they meet, Your ruin'd, formless bulk o' stane an' lime, Compare wi' bonie Brigs o' modern time? There's men o' taste would take the Duckat stream, * A noted ford just above the Auld Brig, Tho' they should cast the very sark and swim, AULD BRIG. Conceited gowk! puff'd up wi' windy pride. This mony a year I've stood the flood an' tide; An' tho' wi' crazy cild I'm sair forfairn, I'll be a Brig, when ye're a shapeless cairn! As yet ye little ken about the matter, But twa-three winters will inform you better. When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil, Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course, That Architecture's noble art is lost! NEW BRIG. Fine Architecture! trowth, I needs must say't o' The L-d be thankit that we've tint the gate o't! * The banks of Garpal Water is one of the few places in the West of Scotland, where those fancy-scaring beings, known by the name of Ghaists, still continue pertinaciously to inhabit. ↑ The source of the river Ayı ‡ A small landing-place above the large key. Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices, Hanging with threat'ning jut, like precipices, Fit only for a doited Monkish race, Or frosty maids, forsworn the dear embrace, AULD BRIG. O ye, my dear-remember'd, ancient yealings, Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings! Ye worthy Proveses, an' mony a Bailie, Wha in the paths of righteousness did toil ay; Ye dainty Deacons, and ye douce Conveeners, To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners; Ye godly Councils wha hae bless'd this town; Ye godly Brethren of the sacred gown, Wha meekly gae your hurdies to the smiters ; And (what would now be strange) ye godly writer A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon he broo, Were ye but here, what would ye say or do? How would your spirits groan in deep vexation, To see each melancholy alteration; And agonizing, curse the time and place Meet owre a pint, or in the Council-house; Men, three parts made by tailors and by barbers, Wha waste your wheel-hain'd gear on d-d new Briga and Harbors! NEW BRIG. Now haud you there! for faith ye've said enough, And muckle mair than ye can make to through. As for your Priesthood, I shall say but little, Corbies and Clergy are a shot right kittle; But under favor o' your langer beard, Abuse o' magistrates might weel be spar'd; To liken them to your auld warld squad, I must needs say, comparisons are odd. In Ayr, wag-wits nae mair can hae a handle To mouth "6 a citizen," a term o' scandal: Nae mair the Council waddles down the street, In all the pomp of ignorant conceit: Mcn wha grew wise priggin owre hops an' raisins, If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp, And would to Common-sense, for once betray'd them What farther clishmaclaver might been said, What bloody wars, if sprites had blood to shed. |