Stand still as others aft hae stood, And count your gains. I mourn, alas! your ill-starred fate, Will still ye blame; Your worth, your honour, underrate, Ye stars in Caldstream's moral sky, But had ye heard, oh fie! oh fie ! Eneugh, aye mair I will engage, Or Matthew Hale, your patron sage, Traduce our grand Commission stage Till a' was blue. Or Board, your Worships, I'm mistaken: In very wrath my nieve is shaken— "What hae they dune," they'll spier," as makin', Humbuggin', piddlin', Teazin' us till our souls are achin', Our pouches diddlin'. "Was not our toon as weel aforeAs trig, as clean, ay, rather more? Shame on the credit o' the core Wi' a' their power: Lord, send us soon, we now implore, "Commissioners, what but a name? The partial cringing gang the same, "Just twig yon strutting, harnessed toolYon counter-knighted fop and fool, 'Side Winter-face, wi' square and rule: I'd send the ganers Ance mair to Willie's skelpin' school To mend their manners. Doon wi' that duckdub, captious warlin', That hairbrained imp eternal snarlin', And blast yon cod-head, drouthy carlin', He's but a blether; "Twad suit him better, than sic quarr❜llin', To rax his leather. Again, confound sic clitter clatters; D I'm sure they're saxty times your debtors; I'd teach them rev'rence for their betters, By a' that's guid, lay on the rod, To some appear— Yet never hick, till at your nod 'Tis aye the readiest way to reason, When puir folk thus get out o' season: "What hae they dune ?"-blasphemy, treasonYea, warse than that: By Jupiter, sirs, if ye please, sune I'll show them what. "What hae they dune ?" what hae they not? What were we ere the Act we got? Hoo daur ye harbour sic a thought, Ye sons o' bitches? O base philanthropy thy lot Among sic wretches. "What hae they dune ?" look through our town, Syne ne'er upon our rulers frown; How nice we're cribbet a' ye'll own, And paved and spooted, And which our "moral dub and loan" Sublimely suited. Hence for sic benefits ilk lairdie, Your double thanks to them award ye; What though they took ye by the bairdie In fleecing tussle ? 'Twas for your guid: refuse hoo daur ye To pay the whistle? And mark the sanitary air Our streets, our lanes, and closes wear; To show their vigilance be fair, Just tak a sample For "Zion Lane" ye needna care As an example. Just tak our ain, our famous street, Our wrath to raise, Sae weel deservin' is the fleet The meed o' praise. Again, nae mair in public parts We peel our shanks o'er trams o' carts, When social Islay glads our hearts, And toil is o'er; I'm sure, wi' a' our takin' arts, They were a bore. Noo let your cart stand, if ye choose, Baith keen and crouse aye Afore our Court, let Mack disclose Hoo they will souce ye. Though gigs and coaches are excepted, Distinctions draw Why should our gentles be restricted A fig for a' your worth and wit— The ready tin, Syne do whate'er ye may think fit— Be up, be zealous, richt or wrang, Ye ken the blunt will gaur her gang, But gallop here. Wae's me for him, 'neth poortith's load! |