XX.

The lads an' laffes, blythely bent
To mind baith faul an body,
Sit round the table, weel content,
An fteer about the toddy.

On this ane's drefs, an' that ane's leuk
They're makin obfervations;

While fome are cozie i' the neuk

An formin affignations.

To meet fome day.

XXI.

But now the L

's ain trumpet touts,

Till a' the hills are rairin,

An' echos back-return the fhouts 3

Black ****** is na fparin:

His piercing words, like Highlan fwords, Divide the joints and marrow;

His talk o'h-ll, where devils dwell,

Our vera

Sauls does harrow

Wi fright that day I'

XXII.

A vaft unbottom'd boundless pit,

Fill'd fou o lowin brunstane,

Wha's raging flame, an fcorching heat,

Wad melt the hardest whun-ftane!.

The half afleep ftart up wi' fear,

An' think they hear it roaring,

When presently it does appear,
"Twas but fome neebor fnoring

Afleep that day..

*Shakespeare's Hamlet.

XXIII.

Twad be owre lang a tale to tell
How monie ftories paft,

An' how they crouded to the yill,

When they were a' dismist:

How drink gaed round, in cogs an' caups,
Amang the furms and benches ;

An' cheese and bread, frae women's laps,

Was dealt about in lunches,.

An' dawds that day.

XXIV.

In comes a gaucie, gafh guidwife,.

An' fits down by the fire,

Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife,

The laffes they are fhyer.

The auld Guidmen about the Grace,

Frae fide to fide they bother,

Till fome ane by his bonnet lays,

An' gi'es them't like a tether,

Fu' lang that day.

XXV.

Waefucks for him that gets nae lafs,

Or laffes that hae naething!
Sma' need has he to fay a grace,

Or melvie his braw claithing!
O Wives! be mindfu' ance yoursel,
How bonie lads ye wanted,

An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel,.

Let laffes be affronted

On fic a day !

XXVI.

Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattlin tów,
Begins to jow an' croon;

Some fwagger hame the beft they dow,

Some wait the afternoon.

At flaps the billies halt and blink,
Till laffes ftrip their fhoon:

Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink,

They're a' in famous tune

For crack that day.

XXVII.

How monie hearts this day converts

O' Sinners and o' Laffes!

Their hearts o' ftane gin night are gane,
As faft as any flesh is.

There's fome are fou' o' love divine ;
There's fome are fou' o' brandy;

An' monie jobs that day begin,

May end in Houghmagandie

Some ither day..

DEATH,

AND

DOCTOR HORNBOOK...

A TRUE STORY.

SOME books are lies frae end to end,

And fome great lies were never penn'd;
Ev'n Minifters they hae been kenn'd,

In holy rapture,

Great lies and nonfenfe baith to vend,

And nail't wi Scripture.

But this that I am gaun to tell,
Which lately on a night befel,
Is jult as true's the Deil's in hell,

Or Dublin City

That e'er he nearer comes ourfel

'S a muckle pity.

The Clachan yill had made me canty,
I was na fou, but just had plenty;
I ftacher'd whyles, but yet took tent ay

To free the ditches:

An' hillocks, ftanes, an? bufhes kenn'd ay,

Frae ghaifts an' witches..

The rifing Moon began to glowr
The diftant Cumnock hills out-owre;
To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r'

I fet myfel;

But whether he had three or four

I cou'd na tell..

I was come round about the hill,
And todlin down on Willie's Mill,
Setting my ftaff wi' a' my skill,

To keep me ficker;

Tho' leeward whyles, againft my will

I took a bicker..

I there wi' Something does forgather,
That pat me in an eerie fwither;
An' awfu' scythe, out-owre ae fhouther

Clear-dangling, hang;:

A three-tae'd leister on the ither

Lay, large an' lang..

Its ftature feem'd lang Scotch ells twa,

The queereft fhape that e'er I faw,

For fient a wame it had ava,

And then its fhanks,

They were as thin, as fharp an' fma”,

As cheeks o' branks.

• Guid-een, quo' I; Friend! hae ye been mawin, • When ither folk are bufy fawin* ??

*This rencounter happened in feed time, 1785