A country girl at her wheel, There's some exception, man an' woman; But this is Gentry's life in common. By By this, the sun was out o' sight, An' darker gloaming brought the night: The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone; The kye stood rowtin i' the loan; When up they gat, and shook their lugs, Rejoic'd they were na men but dogs; An' each took aff his several way, Resolv'd to meet some ither day, SCOTCH DRINK. Gie him strong drink, until he wink, That's prest wi' grief an' care; Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, Till he forgets his loves or debts, An' minds his griefs no more. SOLOMON'S PROVERBS, XXXI. 6, 7. LET other Poets raise a fracas 'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drunken Bacchus, An' crabbit names an' stories wrack us, An' grate our lug, I sing the juice Scots bear can mak us, In glass or jug. O thou, O thou, my Muse! guid auld Scotch Drink; Whether thro' wimpling worms thou jink, Or, richly brown, ream o'er the brink, In glorious faem, Inspire me, till I lisp and wink, To sing thy name! Let husky Wheat the haughs adorn, Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn, Thou king o' grain! On thee aft Scotland chows her cood, Wi' kail an' beef; But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood, There thou shines chief. Food fills the wame, an' keeps us livin; Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin, But, oil'd by thee, The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin, Wi' rattlin glee. Thou Thou clears the head o' doited Lear; Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care; Thou strings the nerves o' Labor sair, At's weary toil; Thou even brightens dark Despair Wi' gloomy smile. Aft, clad in massy siller weed, Wi' Gentles thou erects thy head; Yet humbly kind in time o' need, The poor man's wine, His wee drap parritch, or his bread, Thou kitchens fine. Thou art the life o' public haunts; By thee inspir'd, When gaping they besiege the tents, That merry night we get the corn in, O sweetly then thou reams the horn in! Or reekin on a New-year morning In cog or bicker, An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in, An' gusty sucker! When |