Twins monie a poor, doylt, druken hash
O' half his days;

An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash
To her warst faes.

Ye Scots wha wish auld Scotland well,
Ye chief, to you my tale I tell,
Poor, plackless devils like mysel,
It sets you ill,

Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,

Or foreign gill.

May Gravels round his blather wrench, An' Gouts torment him, inch by inch, Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch

O Whisky! soul o' plays an' pranks!
Accept a Bardie's gratefu' * thanks!
When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
Are my poor Verses!

Thou comes-they rattle i' their ranks
At ither's arses!

Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, Wha mak the Whisky stells their prize!

Haud up thy han'

Deil! ance, twice, thrice!
There, sieze the blinkers!

An' bake them up in brunstane pies

For poor d-n'd Drinkers.

* Altered, in 1794, to "humble."

Fortune, if thou'll but gie me still
Hale breeks, a scone, an' whisky gill,
An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,
Tak a' the rest,

An' deal't about as thy blind skill

Directs thee best.

THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER,*

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE AND HONORABLE, THE

SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES IN THE

HOUSE OF COMMONS.

Dearest of Distillation! last and best!—
-How art thou lost!

PARODY ON MILTON.

[The subject of Scotch Drink is here resumed in the same favourite measure and with even more poetic fire than its precursor. The opening words of this poem have given rise to some discussion, no former editor having ventured or deemed it necessary to point out why the poet addresses Irish Lords as among the "Scotch Representatives in the House of Commons." We will now attempt an explanation of this. On referring to the Almanacks of that period we find the names of several Irish Peers on the list of Scotland's "chosen Five and Forty." Election patronage in North Britain was then in the hands of a very few dominant Dukes and Earls, whose daughters were frequently allied in marriage to poor Peers of Erin, who then, as now, were fain to improve their fortunes by any likely shift of position, and found no difficulty in being elected Scotch Members of Parliament. The Poet winced under this implied disgrace, and his reference to the Irish Lords in this "Earnest Cry" is, therefore, strongly satirical. An Edinburgh edition of the Poet's works-1805-ridiculously alters the reading of the first line to "Ye Scottish Lords," &c.]

*Foot-note added in 1787:-"This was wrote before the Act anent the Scotch Distilleries, of session 1786; for which Scotland and the Author return their most grateful thanks."

+ Changed, in 1794, to "Poet's."

Alas! my roupet Muse is haerse!
Your Honor's hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce,
To see her sittan on her arse

Low i' the dust,

An' scriechan out prosaic verse,

An' like to brust!

Tell them wha hae the chief direction,
Scotland an' me's in great affliction,
E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction
On AQUAVITÆ;

An' rouse them up to strong conviction,

An' move their pity.

Stand forth and tell yon PREMIER YOUTH,

The honest, open, naked truth:

Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth,

His servants humble:

The muckle devil blaw you south,

If ye dissemble!

Does ony great man glunch an' gloom?
Speak out an' never fash your thumb.
Let posts an' pensions sink or swoom

Wi' them wha grant them :

If honestly they canna come,

Far better want them.

In gath'rin votes you were na slack,
Now stand as tightly by your tack:
Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back,
An' hum an' haw,

But raise your arm, an' tell your crack
Before them a'.

Paint Scotland greetan owre her thrissle;
Her mutchkin stowp as toom's a whissle;
An' d-mn'd Excise-men in a bussle,

Then on the tither hand present her,
A blackguard Smuggler, right behint her,
An' cheek-for-chow, a chuffie Vintner,
Colleaguing join,

Picking her pouch as bare as Winter,
Of a' kind coin.

Is there, that bears the name o' SCOT,
But feels his heart's bluid rising hot,
To see his poor, auld Mither's pot,

Thus dung in staves,

An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat,

By gallows knaves?

Alas! I'm but a nameless wight, Trode i' the mire out o' sight!

But could I like MONTGOMERIES fight,

Or gab like BOSWELL,

There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight,

An' tye some hose well.

God bless your Honors, can ye see't, The kind, auld, cantie Carlin greet,

An' no get warmly to your feet,

An'

gar them hear it,

An' tell them, wi' a patriot-heat,

Ye winna bear it?

Some o' you nicely ken the laws,
To round the period an' pause,
An' with rhetoric clause on clause

To mak harangues;

Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's

Auld Scotland's wrangs.

Dempster, a true-blue Scot I'se warran;·
Thee, aith-detesting, chaste Kilkerran ;
An' that glib-gabbet Highland Baron,

The Laird o' Graham;

And ane, a chap that's d-mn'd auldfarran, Dundas his name.

Erskine, a spunkie norland billie;
True Campbells, Frederick an' Ilay;
An' Livistone, the bauld Sir Willie;
An' monie ithers,

Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully

Might own for brithers.*

Arouse my boys! exert your mettle,
To get auld Scotland back her kettle!
Or faith! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle,
Ye'll see't or lang

She'll teach you, wi' a reekan whittle,

Anither sang.

This while she's been in crankous mood,

Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid;

(Deil na they never mair do guid,

Play'd her that pliskie!)

An' now she's like to rin red-wud

About her Whisky.

An' L-d! if ance they pit her till't,

Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt,

An' durk an' pistol at her belt,

She'll tak the streets,

An' rin her whittle to the hilt,

I' th' first she meets!

For G-d-sake, Sirs! then speak her fair,
An' straik her cannie wi' the hair,

An' to the muckle house repair,

Wi' instant speed,

* In the early MS. copies of this poem, of which several exist, a verse complimentary to Colonel Hugh Montogomery of Coilsfield, is here introduced, (and it is given in the most of modern editions,) but the bard suppressed it owing to the banter in the closing words, alluding to the imperfect eloquence of the gallant soldier. The verse is as follows:

"See, sodger Hugh, my watchman stented,
If poets e'er are represented;

I ken if that your sword were wanted,

Ye'd lend a hand,

All the "bardies" in this and other poems of 1786, were afterwards altered to "poets"-a more intelligible word.