Wi birr he bangs his paper out,
And thinks his point ayont a doubt.
To ilka hirn he tak's his rout,

(For he's nae fae) And gangs just slavering about

In quest o'

After he's rais'd a needless reek,
Syne he begins to grow mair meek,
For he meets wi' a great begeek

Frae empty binks, Sae wi' his finger in his cheek,

Awa' he slinks.

The gauger's scarcely frae the door,
Wban beggars they come in gelore,
Wi' wallops flapping in great store,

Rais'd up in cairns, And birns baith a-hint and 'fore

O greetin' bairns.

The auld anes raise a whinging tone,
And sigh and sob, and cry, Ohon!
Syne blessings come wi' mony drone,

Frae man and wife, Wha to their childer seek a scone,

To succour life.

XXXVI. Quo' they, “ We're trachled unco sair, “ We've gane twal mile o' yerd and mair, “ The gate was ill, our feet war bare,

*** The night is weety, “ And gin ye quarters hae to spare,

“O shaw your pity !”

XXXVII. The lasses yamour frae their wheel, “ There's mony a sturdy gangril chiel “ That might be winnin' meat fu' weel,

• An' claes an'a', Ye're just fit to mak’ muck o' meal,

" Sae swith awa'.

XXXVIII. Auld luckie cries; 66 Ye're o'er ill set, “ As ye'd hae measure, ye sud met; “ Ye ken-nae what may be your


“ In after days, « The black cow has nae trampet yet

“ Upo' your taes.

XXXIX. “ G'ie o'er your daft and taunting play, “ For you and they are baith ae clay: 66 Rob tak them to the barn, I say,

“ And gi’e them strae, 66 There let them rest till it be day,

“ And syne they'll gae.”

XL. Whan John, the head ploughman, comes in, They mak’ a loud and joyfu' din, For ilka heart is rais'd a pin,

And mair, I trow, And in a trice they round him rin,

To get what's new.

Owat ye whare the lad has been,
That they're sae happy ilka ane?
Nae far aff journey, as I ween,

For ploy sae rare ;
But, reader, ye shall ken bedeen

The hale affair.

As he was wurking lang and strang,
And fallowin wi' pith an bang,
The couter o’the pleugh gaed wrang,

(A’thing maun wear,) Syne he did to the smithy gang,

To mend the gear.

This is the houff of ane and a',
And mony ane does even draw,
Altho' they hae but errand sma’

To tak' them there; Some gang to hear, and some to shaw

Their rustic lear.

They tell news here of a kin' kind,
In pithy words as e’er were coin'd,
Sic as beseem the untaught mind,

And nature plain, Sic as the heart will sooner find,

Than speeches vain.

O’ John's return spak ilka nook,
They aft gaed to the door to look ;
For they were on the tenter-hook,

For smithy chat;
And now, I trow, like printed book,

He gies them that.

XLVI. He thus begins, “ What's this ava', « There's sad wark in America, « For fowk there dinna keep the law,

66 And wad be free, « Nor o' King George stand ony awe,

« Nor taxes gie.

XLVII. « They say we're listing heaps indeed, “ And shipping them awa wi' speed, “ And vow I fear there's mickle need;

“ By what I hear, " The rebels hae made unco' head,

" Within this year.

XLVIII. 6. The smith thinks they hae play'd a trick, “ Sin we o'time did miss the nick, “ But now, let us our winning lick,

“ (He cry'd in pet,) “ And said, Fowk sud the iron strike,

“Ay whan it's het.

XLIX. “ I wish our fowk soon hame again, " And no to dander 'yont the main, “ Because I dread the king o' Spain,

“ And wily France, “ Will seek the thing that's no their ain,

" And lead's a dance.

L.. “ I wat o' cunning they're no lame, “ And they wad think it a braw scheme, “ Whan our men's far awa' frae hame,

6 Mischief to ettle ; “ At ither times we'd mak' them tame,

66. And cool their mettle.

LI. « But I'll hae done wi’ foreign lands, « And mind the thing that's nearer hands; « On Friday next a bridal stands

« At the Kirk-town, “ The bridegroom gae me great commands

“ To bring ye down."

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