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Our Patron, honest man! Glencairn,

He saw mischief was brewin; And like a godly 'elect bairn He's wal'd us out a true ane,

And sound this day.

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Now R******* harangue nae mair,

But steek your gab for ever :
Or try the wicked town of A**,

For there they'll think you clever ; Or, nae reflection on your lear,

Ye may commence a shaver; Or to the N-th-rt-n repair, And turn a Carpet-weaver

Aff-hand this day.

M***** and you were just a match,

We never had sic twa drones ::
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch;

Just like a winkin baudrons :
And ay' he catch'd the tither wretch,

To fry them in his caudrons :
But now his honour maun detach,
Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons,

Fast, fast this day.

See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes

She's swingein thro' the city:.

Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays

I vow it's unco pretty :
There, Learning, with his Greekish face,

Grunts out some Latin ditty ;
And Common Sense is gaun, she says,
To mak to Jamie Beattie

Her plaint this day.

But there's Morality himsel,

Embracing all opinions ;
Hear, how he gies the tither yell,

Between his twa companions;
See, how she peels the skin an' fell,

As ane were peelin onions !
Now there-- they're packed aff to hell,
And banish'd our dominions,

Henceforth this day.

O happy day! rejoice, rejoice!

Come bouse about the porter !
Morality's demure decoys

Shall here nae mair find quarter ; M*******, R*****, are the boys,

That Heresy can torture : They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, And cow her measure shorter

By th' head some day.

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,

And here's, for a conclusion,

every New Light* mother's son, From this time forth, Confusion : If mair they deave us with their din

Or Patronage intrusion,
We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin,
We'll rin them aff in fusion

Like oil, some day.



On his Text, MALACHI, ch. iv. ver. 2. “ And they shall go

“ forth, and grow up, like CALVES of the stall.”

Right, Sir! your text I'll prove it true,

Though Heretics my laugh;
For instance ; there's yoursel just now,

God knows, an unco Calf!

And should some Patron be so kind,
As bless


a kirk,
I doubt na, Sir, but then we'll find,

Ye're still as great a Stirk.

* New Light is a cant phrase in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously.

But, if the Lover's raptur'd hot

Shall ever be your lot,
Forbid it, every heavenly Power,

You e'er should be a Stoth

Tho', when some kind, connubial Dear,

Your but-and-ben adorns,
The like has been that you may wean

A noble head of horns.

And in your lug, most reverend James,

To hear you roar and rowte, Few men o sense will doubt


claims To rank amang

the nowte.

Below a grassy

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead,

hillock, Wi' justice they may mark your head

Here lies a famous Bullock.'

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O Prince ! O Chief of many throned Pow'rs,
That led thembattl'd Seraphim to war. MILTON

TNOU! whatever title suit thee, Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie,

Clos'd under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie,

To scaud poor wretches !

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Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee;
An' let poor damned bodies be;
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,

E'en to a deil,
To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,

An' hear us squeel!

Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame ;-
Far kend and noted is thy name;
An' tho' yon lowin heugh's thy hame,

Thou travels far ;
An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame,

Nor blate nor scaur..

Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion, For prey,

a' holes an' corners tryin :

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