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Our Patron, honest man! Glencairn,
He saw mischief was brewin;
And like a godly elect bairn

He's wal'd us out a true ane,

And sound this day.

IX.

Now R******* harangue nae mair,
But steek your gab for ever;
Or try the wicked town of A**,

For there they'll think you clever;

Or, nae reflection on your lear,
Ye may commence a shaver;
Or to the N-th-rt-n repair,
And turn a Carpet-weaver

Aff-hand this day.

X.

M***** and you were just a match,
We never had sic twa drones:
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,
Just like a winkin baudrons :

And ay' he catch'd the tither wretch,

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To fry them in his caudrons :

But now his honour maun detach,

Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons,

Fast, fast this day.

XI.

See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes
She's swingein thro' the city:

Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays
I vow it's unco pretty :

There, Learning, with his Greekish face,
Grunts out some Latin ditty;

And Common Sense is gaun, she says,

To mak to Jamie Beattie

Her plaint this day.

XII.

But there's Morality himsel,
Embracing all opinions;

Hear, how he gies the tither yell,

Between his twa companions; See, how she peels the skin an' fell, As ane were peelin onions!

Now there they're packed aff to hell,

And banish'd our dominions,

Henceforth this day.

XIII.

O happy day! rejoice, rejoice!
Come bouse about the porter !
Morality's demure decoys

Shall here nae mair find quarter;
M********, R*****, are the boys,
That Heresy can torture:
They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse,

And cow her measure shorter

By th' head some day.

XIV.

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
And here's, for a conclusion,
To every New Light* mother's son,
From this time forth, Confusion:
If mair they deave us with their din
Or Patronage intrusion,

We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin,
We'll rin them aff in fusion

Like oil, some day.

THE CALF.

TO THE REV. MR

On his Text, MALACHI, ch. iv. ver. 2.

"And they shall go

"forth, and grow up, like CALVES of the stall."

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

Though Heretics my 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.

*New Light is a cant phrase in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously.

But, if the Lover's raptur'd hour
Shall ever be your lot,

Forbid it, every heavenly 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 reverend 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.'

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ADDRESS TO THE DEIL.

O Prince! O Chief of many throned Pow'rs,
That led th' embattl'd Seraphim to war.

MILTON

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THOU! whatever title suit thee,
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,
Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie,

Clos'd under hatches,

Spairges about the brunstane cootie,

To scaud poor wretches!

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
An' let poor damned bodies be;
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,

E'en to a deil,

To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,
An' hear us squeel!.

Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame;
Far kend and noted is thy name;

An' tho' yon lowin heugh's thy hame,

Thou travels far ;

An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame,

Nor blate nor scaur.

Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion,
prey, a' holes an' corners tryin;

For

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