Ars catchpolaria, or the art of destroying mankind Intended as a Vade-mecum or Pocket Companion to Messengers and other executors of the Law [by James Wilson] |
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 | Ars catchpolaria, or the art of destroying mankind |  |
Number I.
The Innovations of our day
Deserve the Poets song,
Melpomene come join the spray,
And all the tuneful throng.
Deserve the Poets song,
Melpomene come join the spray,
And all the tuneful throng.
Lament the Lyon of Will Hall,
As also Omon's Bear;
Now pinion'd fast unto the wall,
No more they rear in Air.
As also Omon's Bear;
Now pinion'd fast unto the wall,
No more they rear in Air.
The Horse, the Bull, the Pugg, the Dog,
The Eagle and the Swan;
Let Hope now mourn his Golden Hog,
And Young his Pelican.
The Eagle and the Swan;
Let Hope now mourn his Golden Hog,
And Young his Pelican.
Neal's pretty Pigeons, harmless things,
They now have flown away,
And Binny's Beaver from his Rings,
Alas! has gone astray.
They now have flown away,
And Binny's Beaver from his Rings,
Alas! has gone astray.
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The Fox and scourge, the reaping Scythe,
And eke the Lemon Tree,
No longer make their owners blythe
But fall to destiny.
And eke the Lemon Tree,
No longer make their owners blythe
But fall to destiny.
Craigillechin, that ancient rock,
No more hangs over head
Town Council Acts, like powder's stroke
Will rend huge stones indeed.
No more hangs over head
Town Council Acts, like powder's stroke
Will rend huge stones indeed.
M'Dermid's Fir Tree ever green,
Is blasted from its link;
The best strong Ale that e're was seen
We often there did drink.
Is blasted from its link;
The best strong Ale that e're was seen
We often there did drink.
Now Pandœmonium is its name,
For good Ale needs no bush;
Both Saint and Sinner love the same,
And to his Temple rush.
For good Ale needs no bush;
Both Saint and Sinner love the same,
And to his Temple rush.
The Sun, the Moon and sparkling Stars,
O strange! are pulled down,
And batted to the Walls with Spars,
With many a Regal Crown.
O strange! are pulled down,
And batted to the Walls with Spars,
With many a Regal Crown.
Orlando's Black with Boot in hand
Has made a nice retreat;
The pretty Boy yet makes his stand,
Nor dreads the Council's hate
Has made a nice retreat;
The pretty Boy yet makes his stand,
Nor dreads the Council's hate
The Turk's head too, where Lordly fare
Did Nobles entertain,
Is lopped off from Tavern rare
Kept by the civil Bain.
Did Nobles entertain,
Is lopped off from Tavern rare
Kept by the civil Bain.
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Wild's Ram, ridic'lous sign of Snuff,
Hath too retrench'd his horn;
Reid's Indian Queen too, wild enough,
Is likewise backward born.
Hath too retrench'd his horn;
Reid's Indian Queen too, wild enough,
Is likewise backward born.
Scot's Cock who stood for many years
In wanton Lasses view,
No more our Hens the Cockie cheers,
For to his Roost he flew.
In wanton Lasses view,
No more our Hens the Cockie cheers,
For to his Roost he flew.
Brave Brown's Hussar on Horse back rode,
Well mounted Cap a pee;
In Air no longer makes abode,
At manger now is he.
Well mounted Cap a pee;
In Air no longer makes abode,
At manger now is he.
Like Jona's Gourd, thy Dial plate,
O Skirven took its flight,
For Time and Tide none will abide
The morning flies to night.
O Skirven took its flight,
For Time and Tide none will abide
The morning flies to night.
The great Gun too, from Airy field
Is spik'd to yonder Wall;
All you who wear the Sword and Shield,
Lament this Cannon's fall.
Is spik'd to yonder Wall;
All you who wear the Sword and Shield,
Lament this Cannon's fall.
Great George the third, his Regal Bust,
Is likewise pulled down,
Dumbreck, at Treason now thou must
Wear on thy brow a frown.
Is likewise pulled down,
Dumbreck, at Treason now thou must
Wear on thy brow a frown.
In Niddry's wynd, Buchanan's head
Points out a Dunces Shop,
No science in his skull but greed,
The learn'd head now must drop.
Points out a Dunces Shop,
No science in his skull but greed,
The learn'd head now must drop.
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Old barber Blair, thy antique Sign
Must fall before thyself;
Thy razor now thou may resign
Which wont to bring thee Pelf.
Must fall before thyself;
Thy razor now thou may resign
Which wont to bring thee Pelf.
The Masons Arms of Him in Leith
Are torn from off the shore,
No wonder then he gnash his Teeth
And give a brutal roar.
Are torn from off the shore,
No wonder then he gnash his Teeth
And give a brutal roar.
No more he'll Judge the swift of foot
Upon a Pillar's top,
His visage black now as the soot
Prognsticates a rope.
Upon a Pillar's top,
His visage black now as the soot
Prognsticates a rope.
Such havock in the Seventy one
Was made in the good Town
As made some laugh and others groan
For Public weal we own.
Was made in the good Town
As made some laugh and others groan
For Public weal we own.
| Ars catchpolaria, or the art of destroying mankind | |