Sidor som bilder
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Stand still as others aft hae stood,

And count your gains.

I mourn, alas ! your ill-starred fate,
E'en do your best, baith ear' and late;
Base envy, ignorance and hate,

Will still ye blame;
Your worth, your honour, underrate,

And blast your name.

Ye stars in Caldstream's moral sky,
For instance, and without a lie,
'Twas but yestreen as I passed by,

I'll no say where;
But had ye heard, oh fie ! oh fie !

Their lingo there.

Eneugh, aye mair I will engage,
It living Moses to enrage,
Or Matthew Hale, your patron sage,

To heard sic crew
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,

A rattlin' shower.

“ Commissioners, what but a name?
The Act a hoax let a' proclaim,
A hell-forged gibbet for their fame,

By jing, they'll find it
The partial cringing gang the same,

As I've divined it.

“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;
What skill hae they in burgh matters ?

I'm sure they're saxty times your debtors;

And by the Act
I'd teach them rev'rence for their betters,

The lawless pack.

By a'that's guid, lay on the rod,
Which Thamas says he gat frae God-
Though his opinion rather odd

To some appear-
Yet never hick, till at your nod

The devils fear.

'Tis aye the readiest way to reason, When puir folk thus get out o' season: “What hae they dune ?"_blasphemy, treason

Yea, 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.

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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,
Or e’en the new, as clean and neat-
Nae middens rank and file we meet

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,
Puir sinner, there when day shall close,
Syne Clap-trap hauls ye by the nose,

Baith keen and crouse ayeAfore our Court, let Mack disclose

Hoo they will souce ye.

Though gigs and coaches are excepted,
'Tis only what may be expected:
Let Justice ever be respected—

Distinctions draw-
Why should our gentles be restricted

By sic a law ?

A fig for a' your worth and wit-
What will they ser' ye ? feint a whit;
But first o'a' your gettin' get

The ready tin,
Syne do whate'er ye may think fit-

Ye canna sin.

Be up, be zealous, richt or wrang,
Ne'er mind their Pharisaic slang:
What's conscience nook-a parrot's-sang-

The legless mere,
Ye ken the blunt will gaur her gang,

But gallop here.

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