Tak then frae me the heavy load O' burden-bearers heavy shod;
Or, by my troth, the gude auld town sall Hae this affair before the Council.
I dinna care a single jot;
Tho' summon'd by a shelly-coat;
Sae lealy I'll propone defences,
As get ye flung for my expences.
Your libel I'll impugn verbatim,
And hae a magnum damnum datum:
For, tho' frae Arthur's Seat I
And am in constitution strang,
Wad it na fret the hardest stane
Beneath the Luckenbooths to grane ?
Tho' magistrates the Cross discard,
It maks na, whan they leave the Guard,
A lumbersome and stinkin biggin,
That rides the sairest on my riggin.
Poor me o'er meikle do
For tradesmen trampin on your wame ;
Yet a' your advocates, and braw fouk,
Come still to me 'twixt ane and twa o'clock,
And never yet were kent to range
At Charlie's Statue or Exchange.
Then, tak your beax and macaronies;
Gie me trades' fouk, and country Johnnies;
Your sentiments conjunct wi' mine.
Gin we twa cou'd be as auldfarrant,
As gar the Council gie a warrant,
Ilk loun rebellious to tak,
Wha walks not i' the proper track,
And o' three shillins Scottish suck him;
Or in the water-hole sair douk him;
This might assist the poor's collection,
And gie baith parties satisfaction.
But first, I think, it will be good,
To bring it to the Robinhood *,
Whare we sall hae the question stated,
And keen and crabbitly debated,-
Whether the provost and the bailies,
For the town's gude whase daily toil is,
Shou'd listen to our joint petitions,
And see obtemper'd the conditions.
Content am I.-But east the gate is
The Sun, wha taks his leave o' Thetis,
* A debating society; afterwards called the Pantheon.
And comes to wauken honest fouk,
That gang to wark at sax o'clock.
It sets us to be dumb a while,
And let our words gie place to toil.
LANDLADY, BRANDY, AND WHISKY.
ON auld worm-eaten skelf, in cellar dunk, Whare hearty benders seynd their drouthy trunk,
Twa chappin bottles, bang'd wi' liquor fu,—
Brandy the tane, the tither Whisky blue,—
Grew canker'd; for the twa were het within,
And het-skinn'd fouk to flytin soon begin.
The Frenchman fizz'd, and first wad foot the
field,
While paughty Scotsman scorn'd to beenge or yield.
Black be your fa', ye cotter loun mislear'd!
Blawn by the Porters, Chairmen, City Guard:
Hae ye nae breedin, that you cock your nose
Against my sweetly-gusted cordial dose?
I've been near pawky courts, and, aften there,
Hae ca'd hysterics frae the dowie fair;
And courtiers aft gaed greenin for my smack,
To gar them bauldly glowr, and gashly crack.
The priest, to bang mishanters black, and cares,
Has sought me in his closet for his prayers.
What tid then taks the fates, that they can thole
Thrawart to fix me i' this weary hole,
Sair fash'd wi' din, wi' darkness, and wi' stinks, Whare cheery day-light thro' the mirk ne'er blinks?
But ye maun be content, and maunna rue, Tho' erst ye've bizz'd in bonny madam's mou. Wi' thoughts like thae, your heart may sairly dunt,
The warld's now chang'd; it's nae like use and
For here, wae's me! there's nouther lord nor
Comes to get heartscad frae their stamack
Nae mair your courtier louns will shaw their face; For they glowr eery at a friend's disgrace. your heart up :-Whan at court you
The patriot's thrapple wat wi' reamin beer;
Whan chairman, weary wi' his daily gain,
Cah seynd his whistle wi' the clear Champaign;
Be hopefu', for the time will soon row round,
Whan you'll nae langer dwall beneath the ground.
Wanwordy gowk! did I sae aften shine
Wi' gowden glister thro' the crystal fine,
To thole your taunts, that seenil hae been seen
Awa frae luggie, quegh, or truncher treein;
Gif honour wad but let, a challenge shou'd
Twine ye o' Highland tongue and Highland
blude;
Wi' cards like thee I scorn to file my thumb;
For gentle spirits gentle breedin doom.
Truly, I think it right you get your alms, Your high heart humbled amang common
Braw days for you, whan fools, newfangle fain,
Like ither countries better than their ain ;
For there ye never saw sic chancy days,
Sic balls, assemblies, operas, or plays;
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