But, Sir, this pleas'd them warst ava,
An' therefore, Tam, when that I saw,
I said, 'Gude night,' and cam awa,

And left the Session,;

I saw they were resolved a'

On my oppression.

EXTEMPORE LINES,

IN ANSWER TO A CARD FROM AN INTIMATE FRIEND OF BURNS, WISHING HIM TO SPEND AN HOUR AT A TAVERN.

THE King's most humble servant I,
Can scarcely spare a minute ;

But I'll be wi' ye by an' bye;

Or else the Deil's be in it.

My bottle is my holy pool,

That heals the wounds o' care an' dool,
And pleasure is a wanton trout,

An' ye drink it, ye'll find him out.

LINES

WRITTEN EXTEMPORE IN A LADY'S POCKET BOOK.

GRANT me, indulgent Heav'n, that I may live
To see the miscreants feel the pains they give ;
Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air,
Till slave and despot be but things which were.

THE HENPECK'D HUSBAND.

CURS'D be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
Who has no will but by her high permission ;
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell ;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell.
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart :
I'd charm her with the magic of a switch,
I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse bitch.

EPITAPH ON A HENPECK'D COUNTRY
SQUIRE.

As father Adam first was fool'd,
A case that's still too common,
Here lies a man a woman rul'd,
The Devil rul'd the woman.

EPIGRAM ON SAID OCCASION.

O DEATH, hadst thou but spar'd his life
Whom we, this day, lament!
We freely wad exchang'd the wife,
And a' been weel content.

Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff,
The swap we yet will do't;
Take thou the carlin's carcase aff,
Thou'se get the saul o' boot.

ANOTHER.

ONE Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,

When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well,
In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd her,
She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the

powder.

But Queen Netherplace, of a diff'rent complexion, When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction,

Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pretence, Not to shew her respect, but-to save the expense.

VERSES

WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE INN AT CARRON.

WE came na here to view your warks

In hopes to be mair wise,

But only, lest we gang to hell,

It may be nae surprise.

But when we tirl'd at your door,

Your porter dought na hear us ;

Sae

may, shou'd we to hell's yetts come, Your billy Satan sair us!

LINES

ON BEING ASKED WHY GOD HAD MADE MISS DAVIES SO LITTLE AND MRS. *** SO LARGE.

Written on a Pane of Glass in the Inn at Moffat.

Ask why God made the gem so small,
An' why so huge the granite?

Because God meant mankind should set
The higher value on it.

EPIGRAM.

WRITTEN AT INVERARY.

WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here,
I pity much his case,
Unless he come to wait upon

The Lord their God, his Grace.

There's naething here but Highland pride,
And Highland scab and hunger;
If Providence has sent me here,

'Twas surely in an anger.

A TOAST.

GIVEN AT A MEETING OF THE DUMFRIESSHIRE VOLUNTEERS, HELD ΤΟ COMMEMORATE THE ANNIVERSARY OF RODNEY'S VICTORY, APRIL 12TH, 1782.

INSTEAD of a Song, boys, I'll give you a Toast,— Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we

lost:

That we lost, did I say? nay, by heav'n, that we

found,

For their fame it shall last while the world goes

round.

The next in succession, I'll give you the King,
Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing!
And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution,
As built on the base of the great Revolution;
And longer with Politics, not to be cramm'd,
Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd;
And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal,
May his son be a hangman, and he his first trial!

LINES

SAID TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY BURNS, WHILE
ON HIS DEATH-BED, TO JOHN RANKINE, AYR-
SHIRE, AND FORWARDED TO HIM IMMEDIATELY
AFTER THE POET'S DECEASE.

HE who of Rankine sang, lies stiff and dead;
And a green grassy hillock hides his head;
Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed!