ADDRESS TO AN ILLEGITIMATE CHILD. THOU'S welcome, wean! mishanter fa' me, My sweet wee lady, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me Wee image of my bonny Betty, As a' the priests had seen me get thee What tho' they ca' me fornicator, An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter Sweet fruit o' mony a merry dint, Sin' thou came to the warld asklent, Which fools may scoff at; An' if thou be what I wad hae thee, If thou be spar'd; Thro' a' thy childish years I'll ee thee, An' think't weel war'd. VERSES...EPIGRAM. Gude grant that thou may aye inherit "Twill please me mair to hear an' see't, VERSES WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE INN AT CARRON. WE camena here to view your warks In hopes to be mair wise, But only, lest we gang to hell, But when we tirl'd at your door, Your porter doughtna hear us ; Sae may, shou'd we to hell's yetts come, 39 EPIGRAM. [Burns, accompanied by a friend, having gone to Inverary, at a time when some company were there on a visit to his Grace the Duke of Argyll, finding himself and his companion entirely neglected by the Inn-keeper, whose whole attention seemed to be occupied with the visitors of his Grace, expressed his disapprobation of the incivility with which they were treated, in the following lines.] WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here, The Lord their God his Grace. There's naething here but Highland pride, LINES WRITTEN BY BURNS, WHILE ON HIS DEATH-BED, TO JOHN HE who of Ranken sang, lies stiff and dead; VERSES Addressed to the above J. Ranken, ON HIS WRITING TO THE POET, THAT A GIRL IN THAT PART OF THE COUNTRY WAS WITH CHILD TO HIM. I AM a keeper of the law In some sma' points, altho' not a'; Ae way or ither, The breaking of ae point, tho' sma', Breaks a' thegither. I hae been in for't ance or twice, That broke my rest, But now a rumour's like to rise, A whaup's i' the nest. At a Meeting of the Dumfries-shire Volunteers, held to commemorate the Anniversary of RODNEY'S VICTORY, April 12, 1782, Burns was called upon for a Song, instead of which he delivered the following Lines extempore. INSTEAD of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast,― Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost: [found, That we lost, did I say? nay, by heav'n, that we For their fame it shall last while the world goes round. The next in succession, I'll give you the King, 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 MOFFATT. Ask why God made the gem so small, Because God meant mankind should set ON MISS J. SCOTT, OF AYR. OH! had each Scot of ancient times, ANSWER TO A POETICAL EPISTLE, SENT THE AUTHOR BY A TAILOR. WHAT ails ye now, ye lousie b—h, I didna suffer haff sae much Frae Daddie Auld. What tho' at times when I grow crouse, Your servant sae? Gae mind your seam, ye prick-the-louse, An' jag-the-flae. King David o' poetic brief, Wrought 'mang the lasses sic mischief, As fill'd his after life wi' grief An' bloody rants, An' yet he's rank'd amang the chief O'lang-syne saunts. |