His piercin words, like Highlan fwords, Divide the joints an' marrow; His talk o' H-11, whare devils dwell, Our vera * "Sauls does harrow" Wi' fright that day! XXII. A vaft, unbottom'd, boundless Pit, Whase raging flame, an' fcorching heat, The half asleep ftart up wi' fear, When presently it does appear, XXIII. 'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell, How monie ftories past, An' how they crouded to the yill, * Shakespeare's Hamlet. How drink gaed round, in cogs an' caups, Amang the furms an' benches; An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, Was dealt about in lunches, An' dawds that day. XXIV. In comes a gawsie, gash Guidwife, An' fits down by the fire, Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife; The auld Guidmen, about the grace, Frae fide to fide they bother, Till some ane by his bonnet lays, An' gies them't like a tether, Fu' lang that day. XXV. Waefucks! for him that gets nae lafs, Or laffes that hae naething! Sma' need has he to say a grace, Or melvie his braw claithing! O Wives be mindfu', ance yoursel, Let laffes be affronted On fic a day! XXVI. Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattlan tow, Begins to jow an' croon; Some fwagger hame, the beft they dow, Some wait the afternoon. At flaps the billies halt a blink, Till laffes ftrip their shoon: Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink, They're a' in famous tune For crack that day. XXVII. How monie hearts this day converts, O' finners and o' Laffes! Their hearts o' stane, gin night are gane, As faft as ony flesh is. There's fome are fou o' love divine; There's fome are fou o' brandy; An' monie jobs that day begin, Some ither day. 1 知味◎◎味料 ADDRESS то THE DE I L. O Prince, O chief of many throned pow'rs, That led th'embattl'd Seraphim to war MILTON. O Thou, whatever title fuit thee! Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, Wha in yon cavern grim an' footie, Clof'd under hatches, Spairges about the brunftane cootie, To fcaud poor wretches! |