TO THE TRON-KIRK BELL. WANWORDY, crazy, dinsome thing, But weel wat I they cou'dna bring What deil are ye? that I shou'd bann, Nor ulzie pig, nor maister cann, But weel may gie Mair pleasure to the ear o' man Than stroke o' thee. Fleece merchants may look bauld, I trow, Sin' a' Auld Reikie's childer now Maun stap their lugs wi' teats o' woo, Thy sound to bang, And keep it frae gaun thro' and thro' Wi' jarrin twang. P p Your noisy tongue, there's nae abidin't, To deave me, then, ye tak a pride in't O! were I provost o' the town, Nor shou'd you think (Sae sair I'd crack and clour your crown) Again to clink. For whan I've toom'd the meikle cap, Troth I cou'd dose as soun's a tap, Wer't na for thee, That gies the tither weary chap To waken me. I dreamt ae night I saw Auld Nick Quo' he, "This bell o' mine's a trick, "A wylie piece o' politic, “A cunnin snare "To trap fouk in a cloven stick, "Ere they're aware. "As lang's my dautit bell hings there, "A' body at the kirk will skair; "Quo' they, gif he that preaches there "Like it can wound, “We dinna care a single hair "For joyfu' sound." If magistrates wi' me wad gree, Sic honest fouk, be; Whase lugs were never made to dree But, far frae thee the bailies dwell, And then, I trow, The by-word hauds, "The deil himsel "Has got his due." 2 MUTUAL COMPLAINT OF PLAINSTANES AND CAUSEY, In their Mother Tongue. SIN' Merlin laid Auld Reikie's causey, *The Contractor for the lamps. Ye tauntin lowns, trow this nae joke, You'll ken best whan you hear the sample. PLAINSTANES. My friend, thir hunder years and mair We've been forfoughen late and ear', In sunshine, and in weety weather, Our thrawart lot we bure thegither. I never growl'd, but was content Whan ilk ane had an equal stent, But now to flyte I'se een be bauld, When I'm wi' sic a grievance thrall'd : How haps it, say, that mealy bakers, Hair-kaimers, creeshy gizy-makers, Shou'd a' get leave to waste their powders Upo' my beaux and ladies shoulders? My travellers are fley'd to deid Wi' creels wanchancy, heap'd wi' bread, As mak them blithe to skreen their faces |