His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch, The sword I forsook for the sake of the church; He ventur'd the soul, and I risk'd the body, Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot, I asked no more but a sodger laddie. My grannie she bought me a beuk, I fear I my talent misteuk But what will ye hae of a fool? For drink I would venture my neck, I ance was ty'd up like a 'stirk, For touzling a lass i' my daffin. Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport, Observ'd ye, yon reverend lad Maks faces to tickle the mob; He rails at our mountebank squad, Its rivalship just i' the job. And now my conclusion I'll tell, For faith I'm confoundedly dry; The chiel that's a fool for himsel', Gude L-d! he's far dafter than I. With his philibeg an' tartan plaid, We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, They banished him beyond the sea, But, och they catch'd him at the last, And now a widow, I must mourn, 2 Capacious. 4 Wipe. 5 Tinker. I've taen the gold, &c. 6 Laugh. Despise that shrimp, that wither'd imp, If e'er ye want, or meet wi scant, An' by that stoup, &c. RECITATIVO. The caird prevail'd th' unblushing fair Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair, Sir Violino, with an air That show'd a man of spunk, Wish'd unison between the pair, An' made the bottle clunk To their health that night. But urchin Cupid shot a shaft, Behint the chicken cavie. He was a care-defying blade AIR. I never drank the Muses' tank, But there it streams, and richly reams, Great love I bear to a' the fair, A mortal sin to thraw that. For a' that, &c. In raptures sweet, this hour we meet, For a' that, &c. Their tricks and craft have put me daft, CHORUS. For a' that, an' a' that, An' twice as muckle's a' that; RECITATIVO. So sung the bard-and Nansie's wa's They toom'd their pocks, an' pawn'd their duds, They scarcely left to co'er their ‘fuds, To quench their lowan drouth. His sang that night. Then owre again, the jovial thrang, The poet did request, To loose his pack an' 5 wale a sang, A ballad o' the best; He rising, rejoicing, Between his twa Deborahs Looks round him, an' found them AIR. Tune.-" Jolly Mortals, fill your Glasses." 1 Damage. 2 Sang. 3 Staring crowd. 4 Nakedness. 6 Choose. CHORUS. A fig for those by law protected! What is title? what is treasure? With the ready trick and fable, Does the train-attended carriage May be thou lets this fleshly thorn If sae, thy hand maun e'en be borne, L-d, bless thy chosen in this place, Wha bring thine elders to disgrace, L-d, mind Gawn Hamilton's deserts, Wi' great and sma', Frae God's ain priests the people's hearts He steals awa'. An' whan we chasten'd him therefore, Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, As set the warld in a roar O' laughin' at us, Curse thou his basket and his store, Kail and potatoes. L-d, hear my earnest cry an' pray'r, L-d, weigh it down, and dinna spare, O L-d, my G-d, that glib-tongued Aiken, While he wi' hingin' lips gaed snakin', L-d, in the day of vengeance try him, L-d, visit them wha did employ him, And pass not in thy mercy by 'em, Nor hear their pray'r; But, for thy people's sake, destroy 'em, And dinna spare. But, L-d, remember me and mine ROBERT BURNS. A ROYAL QUANDARY. ON the first consignment of Seidlitz Powders to the capital of Delhi, the monarch was deeply interested in the accounts of the refreshing beverage. A box was brought to the king in full court, and the interpreter explained to his majesty how it was to be used. Into a goblet he put the contents of the twelve blue papers; and, having added water, the king drank it off. This was the alkali, and the royal countenance exhibited no sign of satisfaction. It was then explained that in the combination of the two powders lay the luxury; and the twelve white powders were quickly dissolved in water, and as eagerly swallowed by his majesty. With a shriek that will never be forgotten, the monarch rose, staggered, exploded, and, in his agony, screamed, "Hold me down!" Then, rushing from the throne, he fell prostrate on the floor. There he lay during the effervescence of the compound, spirting like a thousand pennyworths of imperial pop, and believing himself in the agonies of death, a melancholy and convincing proof that kings are mortal. CHARLES MATHEWS AND THE SILVER SPOON. SOON after Mathews went from York to the Haymarket Theatre, he was invited with other performers to dine with Mr. Atteborough, afterwards an eminent silversmith, but who at that period followed the business of a pawnbroker. It so happened that Atteborough was called out of the dining room, at the back of the shop, during dinner. Mathews, with wonderful celerity, altering his hair, countenance, hat, etc., took a large gravy-spoon off the dinner-table, ran instantly into the street, entered one of the little dark doors leading to the pawnbroker's counter, and actually pledged to the unconscious Atteborough his own gravy-spoon. Mathews contrived with equal rapidity to return and seat himself (having left the street door open) before Atteborough reappeared at the dinner-table. As a matter of course, this was made the subject of a wager. An éclaircissement took place before the party broke up, to the infinite astonishment of Atteborough. |