Slow Signal Fade ebooks

To tell the truth, they seldom fash'd him,
Except the moment that they crush'd him;
For sune as chance or fate had hush'd 'em
Tho' e'er sae short.
Then wi' a rhyme or sang he lash'd 'em,
And thought it sport.
[Footnote 1: Ruisseaux is French for rivulets
or "burns," a translation of his name.]
Tho'he was bred to kintra-wark,
And counted was baith wight and stark,
Yet that was never Robin's mark
To mak a man;
But tell him, he was learn'd and clark,
Ye roos'd him then!


Epistle To John Goldie, In Kilmarnock
Author Of The Gospel Recovered.--August, 1785
O Gowdie, terror o' the whigs,
Dread o' blackcoats and rev'rend wigs!
Sour Bigotry, on her last legs,
Girns an' looks back,
Wishing the ten Egyptian plagues
May seize you quick.
Poor gapin', glowrin' Superstition!
Wae's me, she's in a sad condition:
Fye: bring Black Jock,^1 her state physician,
To see her water;
Alas, there's ground for great suspicion
She'll ne'er get better.


Pages:
92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116