Friend of the Poet, tried and leal, Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal; Alake, alake, the meikle deil Wi' a' his witches Are at it, skelpin' jig and reel, In my poor pouches! ...
Revered defender of beauteous Stuart, Of Stuart, a name once respected, A name, which to love, was once mark of a true heart, But now 'tis despis'd and neglected. ...
Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, Wi' saut tears trickling down your nose; Our bardie's fate is at a close, Past a' remead; The last sad cape-stane of his woes; Poor Mailie's dead. ...
When by a generous Public's kind acclaim, That dearest meed is granted, honest fame; When here your favour is the actor's lot, Nor even the man in private life forgot;...
What needs this din about the town o' Lon'on, How this new play an' that new sang is comin'? Why is outlandish stuff sae meikle courted? Does nonsense mend like whiskey, when imported?...
This day, Time winds th' exhausted chain, To run the twelvemonth's length again: I see the old, bald-pated follow, With ardent eyes, complexion sallow, Adjust the unimpair'd machine,...
Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain: See, aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign, At thy blythe carol clears his furrow'd brow. ...
A guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie! Hae, there's a rip to thy auld baggie: Tho' thou's howe-backit, now, an' knaggie, I've seen the day Thou could hae gaen like onie staggie Out-owre the lay. ...
As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither, Were ae day nibbling on the tether, Upon her cloot she coost a hitch, An' owre she warsl'd in the ditch: There, groaning, dying, she did lie,...