There's some exceptions, man an' woman;
But this is gentry's life in common.
By this, the sun was out of sight,
An' darker gloamin brought the night;
The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone;
The kye stood rowtin i' the loan;
When up they gat an' shook their lugs,
Rejoic'd they werena men but dogs;
An' each took aff his several way,
Resolv'd to meet some ither day.
The Author's Earnest Cry And Prayer
To the Right Honourable and Honourable Scotch
Representatives in the House of Commons.^1
Dearest of distillation! last and best--
--How art thou lost!--
Parody on Milton.
Ye Irish lords, ye knights an' squires,
Wha represent our brughs an' shires,
An' doucely manage our affairs
In parliament,
To you a simple poet's pray'rs
Are humbly sent.
Alas! my roupit Muse is hearse!
Your Honours' hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce,
To see her sittin on her arse
Low i' the dust,
And scriechinhout prosaic verse,
An like to brust!
[Footnote 1: This was written before the Act anent the
Scotch distilleries, of session 1786, for which Scotland and
the author return their most grateful thanks.
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