O

The chairs were set round in a raw,

For ilka ane thought it mair handy.
A chairman was also judged right,

To clear up a' difficult cases;

So by vote 'twas declared, "That this night
John Brodie is chairman and preses."

This business was hardly got ower,
When up started President Brodie,
"I order" (quo' he with a glower)
"That they bring in a bowlfu' o' toddy."
The liquor was brought in a blink,

Six glasses soon glanced on the table;
"Here's-May all our enemies sink,
Or swing through the air in a cable."

"Success to Montgomerie and Co.,"

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May our trade flourish brighter and brighter," May our purses aye weightier grow,

"Our cares and our troubles aye lighter."

May we ever be grateful for gude❞—

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May ne'er ony waur be among us"

May courage aye warm up our blude

To cudgel the scoundrels that wrang us."

Now some fall to singing of sangs,

And others to roaring and bleth'rin';

They rappit like fire with the tangs,

"Our bowl's toom, come bring us anither in." "Silence," (quo' Brodie) "nae clash

I say." But to ilka ane's wonder,
Down hurled the furm with a crash,
And levelled the preses like thunder.

It's past a' description to tell

How toddy inspired ev'ry bosom,

How aften our president fell,

How aft it was moved to depose him;

How Andrew sang "Blythe was the night,"
And, "Hummle, dum tweedle, dum tweedle ;"
How ev'ry ane's wit grew as bright

And as sharp as the point of a needle.

With laughing, and roaring, and drink,
At last we grew doited and weary;
Auld Saunders begoud for to wink,
Syne couped as sound as a peerie.
Ae shilling was now to the fore,

We buried it soon in our stomachs,
Syne groupin' to find out the door,
Gaed swaggerin' a' hame to our hammocks.

The Group,

A SONG.

TUNE," Poor Laurie."

COME fill up the bowl, my brave boys!
And round let us circle the treasure;
Huzza! my good fellows, rejoice!

For here is a fountain of pleasure.
And while the big bumper doth pass,
Old Bacchus shall never confound me;

I'll drink, and, between every glass,

Loud roar of the wits that surround me,
And bring their each talent to view.

Imprimis. Here sits by my side,

A hum'rous young son of the Muses, Who lord o'er our passions can ride, And wind them whenever he chooses.

The terrible frown he can form,

Look dismally holy thereafter,

Then screw up his face to a storm,

That nigh bursts the beholder with laughter,

And makes ev'ry mortal his friend.

O

O

That little stout fellow in green,

Observe how accomplished and tight he's;
Good humour sits full in his mien,

And mirth his eternal delight is.

When through the wild hornpipe he sweeps,
We stare as we never had seen him,
So nimbly he capers and leaps,

You would swear that some devil was in him,
To flourish his heels so expert.

See! handing the glass to his friend,
Young Jamie, polite and endearing;
To please he is ever inclined,

Though sometimes harassingly jeering.

So sweetly a sonnet he sings,

He chats to the ladies so clever,

That Cupid should sure give him wings,
And make him his archer for ever,
To level the beauties and belles.

And there sits the genius of song,
Whose music so nobly can warm us,
The fife now arousingly strong,

Now waking the viol to charm us:
Yet sometimes he's mournfully mute,

And though we implore while we're able,

He frowning refuses the flute,

And pensively leans on the table,

As if he were lulled in a trance.

With golden locks loose to the wind,
Here sits a swain, kind and free-hearted,

To ev'ry one science inclined,

By every amusement diverted.
Philosophy, painting, and song,
Alternately gain his affection,
But his bliss is to store up a throng
Of insects and worms for dissection,

Of numberless sizes and kinds.

Here Wilson and Poverty sits,
Perpetually boxing together,
Till beat by good liquor she flits,

And leaves him as light as a feather.
From two most unfortunate views,

Proceeds his inconstant condition;
His joys are the smiles of the Muse,
And his mis'ry the want of ambition,
To climb to the notice of fools.

But round with the liquor, my boys!
'Tis folly to languish repining;

To swell up the tide of our joys,

This brimmer was sent us so shining.
Since blockheads and asses grow rich,
And modesty murders the wearer,

If merit must cow'r in the ditch,

May she still have a bumper to cheer her,
And raise her poor head to the skies.

O

Eroans from the Loom,

A SONG.

DEPLORING beside an old loom,
A weaver perplexed was laid,
And, while a bad web was his theme,
The breast-beam supported his head;
The walls, that for ages had stood,
In sympathy, wept for his pain,
And the roof, though of old rotten wood,
Remurmured his groans back again. ·

"Alas! simple fool that I was!"

These words he roared out with a grin, "When I saw thee, I sure was an ass, Else I'd died ere I handled the pin.

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O

Thou glanced, and transported I seemed;
When I held thee, how panted my breast!
In raptures I gazed while thou beamed,

And exclaimed, 'Was e'er mortal so blest!'
What a blockhead was I to aver,

It would work through a mounting so fine;
Or, that such a phantom of hair,

Would in a gay handkerchief shine?
Good Gods! shall a mortal with legs,
So low, uncomplaining, be brought!
Go, hung, like a scarecrow in rags,
And live o'er a seat-tree-on nought!
What though I have patience to tie,

Till their numbers my temples o'erspread,
Whene'er the smooth tread I apply,
My shopmates deplore how I've sped.
Ah! Sandy, thy hopes are in vain;
Thy web and thy mounting resign;
Perhaps they may fall to a swain,

Whose patience is greater than thine.
And you my proud masters so stern,
Who smile o'er the wretch ye torment,
Forbear to import us such yarn,

Or, by Jove, you'll have cause to repent.
Though through the wide warehouse ye foam,
In vain shall ye threaten or mourn;
'Twas yours to distress my poor dome,
Now 'tis mine, and triumphant I'll burn.

If, while the poor trash I pull down,

They expect to regain my esteem,

Let them come with the crowds of the town,
And see how it flames from the beam.

And then the last boon I'll implore,

Is to bless us with China so tight,
And when the pure piece you look o'er,
You will own my petition was right.