You crack weel o' your lasses there;
Their glancin een, and bisket bare ;
But, thof this town be smeekit sair,
I'll wad farden,

Than our's there's nane mare fat and fair,
Cravin your pardon.

Gin heaven shou'd gie the earth a drink, And afterhend a sunny blink,

Gin ye were here, I'm sure you'd think It worth your notice,

To see them dubs and gutters jink

Wi' kiltit coaties:

And frae ilk corner o' the nation,
We've lasses eke o' recreation,

Wha at close-mou's tak up their station

By ten o'clock.—

The Lord deliver frae temptation

Thir

A' honest fouk!

queans are ay upo' the catch For pursie, pocket-book, or watch, And can sae glib their leesins hatch,

That you'll agree,

Ye canna eithly meet their match

"Tween you and me.

For this gude sample o' your skill,
I'm restin you a pint o' yill,
By an attour a Highland gill

O' Aquavitæ ;

The which to come and sock at will,

I here invite

ye.

Tho' jillet Fortune scoul and quarrel,
And keep me frae a bien beef barrel,
As lang's I've twopence i' the warl'

I'll ay be vockie

To part a fadge or girdle farl

Wi' Louthian Jockie.

Fareweel, my cock! lang may you cock! lang may you thrive, Weel happit in a cozy hive;

And that your saul

may never dive

To Acheron,

I'll wish, as lang's I can subscrive

ROB. FERGUSSON,

TO MY AULD BREEKS.

Now gae your wa's.-Tho' aince as gude
As ever happit flesh and blude,

Yet part we maun.-The case sae hard is
Amang the writers and the bardies,
That lang they'll bruik the auld I trow,

Or neebours cry,

Weel bruik the new!"

Still makin tight wi' tither steek;
The tither hole, the tither eik,
To bang the bir o' Winter's anger,
And haud the hurdies out o' langer.

Siclike some weary wight will fill
His kyte wi' drogs frae doctor's bill,
Thinkin to tack the tither year
To life, and look baith hale and fier;
Till, at the lang-run, Death dirks in,
To birze his saul ayont his skin.

You needna wag your duds o' clouts, Nor fa' into your dorty pouts,

To think that erst you've hain'd my tail Frae wind and weet, frae snaw and hail, And for reward, whan bauld and hummil, Frae garret high to dree a tumble.

For you

I car'd, as lang's ye dow'd

Be lin❜d wi' siller or wi' gowd:
Now to befriend, it wad be folly,
Your raggit hide and pouches holey;
For wha but kens a poet's placks

flaws and cracks,

Get mony weary
And canna thole to hae them tint,
As he sae seenil sees the mint?
Yet round the warld keek and see,
That ithers fare as ill as thee;
For weel we loe the chiel we think
Can get us tick, or gie us drink,
Till o' his purse we've seen the bottom,
Then we despise, and hae forgot him.

Yet gratefu' hearts, to mak amends,
Will ay be sorry for their friends,
And I for thee-As mony a time

Wi' you I've speel'd the braes o' rhyme,
Whare for the time the Muse ne'er cares
For siller, or sic guilefu' wares,

Wi' whilk we drumly grow, and crabbit,
Dour, capernoited, thrawin gabbit,
And brither, sister, friend, and fae,
"emeid o' kir

You've seen me round the bickers reel Wi' heart as hale as temper'd steel, And face sae open, free, and blithe, Nor thought that sorrow there cou'd kyth ; But the neist moment this was lost, Like gowan in December's frost.

ay,

Cou'd prick-the-louse but be sae handy
As mak the breeks and claise to stand
Thro' thick and thin wi' you I'd dash on,
Nor mind the folly o' the fashion :
But, heh! the times' vicissitudo
Gars ither breeks decay as you do.
Thae macaronies, braw and windy,
Maun fail-Sic transit gloria mundi !

Now speed you to some madam's chaumer, That but and ben rings dule and clamour, Ask her, in kindness, if she seeks

In hidling ways to wear the breeks?

Safe you may dwall, tho' mould and motty,
Beneath the veil o' under coatie,

For this mair fauts nor yours can screen
Frae lover's quickest sense, his een.

Or if some bard, in lucky times,
Shou'd profit meikle by his rhymes,
And pace awa, wi' smirky face,
In siller or in gowden lace,