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Poor man, the flie, aft bizzes by,
And aft as chance he comes thee nigh,
Thy auld damn'd elbow yeuks wi' joy,
And hellish pleasure;

Already in thy fancy's eye,
Thy sicker treasure.

Soon heels o'er gowdie! in he gangs,
And like a sheep-head on a tangs,
Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs

And murdering wrestle,

As dangling in the wind he hangs
A gibbet's tassel.

But lest you think I am uncivil,
To plague you with this draunting drivel,
Abjuring a' intentions evil,

I quat my pen;

The Lord preserve us frae the devil! Amen! amen!

ADDRESS TO THE TOOTH-ACHE.
My curse upon your venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortur'd gums alang;
And thro' my lugs gies mony a twang,
Wi' gnawing vengeance;
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!

When fevers burn, or ague freezes, Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes ; Our neighbour's sympathy may ease us, Wi' pitying moan;

But thee-thou hell o' a' diseases,

Aye mocks our groan!

Adown my beard the slavers trickle;
I throw the wee stools o'er the meikle,
As round the fire the giglets keckle,
To see me loup;
While raving mad, I wish a heckle
Were in their doup.

O' a' the num'rous human dools,
Ill har'sts, daft bargains, cutty stools,

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Poor man, the flie, aft bizzes by,
And aft as chance he comes thee nigh,
Thy auld damn'd elbow yeuks wi' joy,
And hellish pleasure;

Already in thy fancy's eye,
Thy sicker treasure.

Soon heels o'er gowdie! in he gangs,
And like a sheep-head on a tangs,
Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs

And murdering wrestle,

As dangling in the wind he hangs
A gibbet's tassel.

But lest you think I am uncivil,
To plague you with this draunting drivel,
Abjuring a' intentions evil,

I quat my pen;

The Lord preserve us frae the devil! Amen! amen!

ADDRESS TO THE TOOTH-ACHE. My curse upon your venom'd stang, That shoots my tortur'd gums alang; And thro' my lugs gies mony a twang,

Wi' gnawing vengeance;
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!

When fevers burn, or ague freezes,
Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes ;
Our neighbour's sympathy may ease us,
Wi' pitying moan;

But thee-thou hell o' a' diseases,

Aye mocks our groan !

A down my beard the slavers trickle;
I throw the wee stools o'er the meikle,
As round the fire the giglets keckle,
To see me loup;
While raving mad, I wish a heckle
Were in their doup.

O' a' the num'rous human dools,
Ill har'sts, daft bargains, cutty stools,

Or worthy friends raked i' the moois,
Sad sight to see!

The tricks o' knaves or fash o' fools,
Thou bear'st the gree.

Where'er that place be, priests ca' hell,
Whence a' the tones o' mis'ry yell,
And ranked plagues their numbers tell,
In dreadfu' raw,

Thou, TOOTH-ACHE, surely bear'st the bell, Amang them a'!

O thou grim mischief making chiel, That gars the notes o' discord squeel, 'Till daft mankind aft dance a reel

In gore a shoe-thick ;Gie a' the faes o' SCOTLAND's weel

A towmond's Tooth-Ache.

SONG.

Tune -Morag.

O WHA is she that lo'es me,
And has my heart a-keeping?
O sweet is she that lo'es me,

As dews o' summer weeping,
In tears the rose-buds steeping.

CHORUS.

O that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer;
O that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her.

If thou shalt meet a lassie,
In grace and beauty charming,
That e'en thy chosen lassie,

Ere while thy breast sae warming
Had ne'er sic powers alarming.
O that's, &c.

If thou hadst heard her talking,
And thy attentions plighted,
That ilka body talking,
But her by thee is slighted:
And thou art all delighted.
O that's, &c.

If thou hast met this fair one;
When frae her thou hast parted,
If every other fair one,

But her thou hast deserted,
And thou art broken hearted-
O that's, &c.

SONG.

JOCKIE'S ta'en the parting kiss, O'er the mountain he is gane;

And with him is a' my bliss,

Nought but griefs with me remain.

Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw,

Plashy sleets and beating rain, Spare my luve, thou feathery snaw, Drifting o'er the frozen plain.

When the shades of evening creep

O'er the day's fair, gladsome e'e, Sound and safely may he sleep, Sweetly blythe his wakening be!

He will think on her he loves,
Fondly he'll repeat her name;
For where'er he distant roves,
Jockey's heart is still at hame.

SONG.

My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form
The frost of Hermit age might warm;
My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind,
Might charm the first of human kind:
I love my Peggy's angel air,
Her face so truly, heavenly fair,
Her native grace so void of art,
But I adore my Peggy's heart.

The lily's hue, the rose's dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye;
Who but owns their magic sway,
Who but knows they all decay!
The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
The generous purpose, nobly dear,
The gentle look, that rage disarms
These are all immortal charms.

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Or haudin' Sarah by the wame?
Iram, coram, dago.

Where'er he be, the Lord be near him ;
Igo, and ago,

As for the deil he daur na steer him,
Iram, coram, dago.

But please transmit th' inclosed letter,
Igo, and ago,

Which will oblige your humble debtor Iram, coram, dago.

So may you have auld stanes in store,
Igo, and ago,

The very stanes that Adam bore,
Iram, coram, dago.

So may ye get in glad possession,
Igo, and ago,

The coins o' Satan's coronation !
Iram, coram, dago.

TO

ROBERT GRAHAM, Esq. OF FINTRY.

ON RECEIVING a favour.

I CALL no goddess to inspire my strains,
A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns;
Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns,
And all the tribute of my heart returns,
For boons accorded, goodness ever new,
The gift still dearer as the giver you.

Thou orb of day! thou other paler light!
And all ye many sparkling stars of night;
If aught that giver from my mind efface;
If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace;
Then roll to me, along your wandering spheres,
Only to number out a villain's year!

EPITAPH ON A FRIEND.

AN honest man here lies at rest,
As e'er God with his image blest,
The friend of man, the friend of truth;
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm'd,
Few heads with knowledge so inform'd:
If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.

A GRACE BEFORE DINNER.

O THOU, who kindly dost provide
For ev'ry creature's want!
We bless thee, God of nature wide,
For all thy goodness lent;

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