ON SEEING. A BUTTERFLY IN THE STREET. DAFT gowk, in macaroni dress, Are ye come here to shaw your face, Bowden wi' pride o' simmer gloss, To cast a dash at Reikie's cross; An' glowr at mony a twa-legg'd creature, Flees, braw by art, tho' worms by nature? Like country laird in city cleeding, Ye're come to town to lear' good breeding; To bring ilk darling toast and fashion In vogue amang the flee creation, That they, like buskit belles an' beaux, May crook their mou' fu' sour at those ON SEEING A BUTTERFLY IN THE STREET. Whase weird is still to creep, alas! You soar aboon your mither worm. Kind Nature lent but for a day Her wings to mak ye sprush and gay; Ye may your former sell beguile, And ding awa' th vexing thought Black corbies dress'd in peacock's feathers; Like thee they dander here an' there, Whan Simmer's blinks are warm an' fair, - Whan E'er'n' spreads her wing sae calm; ON SEEING A BUTTERFLY IN THE STREET. འ་་་་་་་་ But whan she girns an' glowrs sae dour Like thee they scour frae street or field, Nor pu'd the prickles wi' the rose. To Poor Butterfly! thy case I mourn, green kail-yard an' fruits return: How could you troke the mavis' note Wi' gruntles frae the City Guard? Now shou'd our sclates wi' hailstaines ring, What cabbage-fauld wad screen your wing; ON SEEING A BUTTERFLY IN THE STREET. Say, fluttering fairy! wert thy hap Then a' your bonny spraings wad fall, To sic mishanter rins the laird Leave him to poortith, an' to care. |