Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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Epistle to J. R.
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
278
Epistle to J. R.
Fair fa' the music o' your whistle,
Sae saftly blawn in yon epistle!
O'erjoy'd, I see, 'round Scotland's thristle
Her bards combine
The wreath o' fame, sae firm, to twissle,
Wi' art divine.
Sae saftly blawn in yon epistle!
O'erjoy'd, I see, 'round Scotland's thristle
Her bards combine
The wreath o' fame, sae firm, to twissle,
Wi' art divine.
What priest, wi' noddle consecrated,
The case mair clearly could ha'e stated,
Or yet mair cogently debated
Ilk clause, than you?
I'm rede, if I be not crack-pated,
There are but few.
The case mair clearly could ha'e stated,
Or yet mair cogently debated
Ilk clause, than you?
I'm rede, if I be not crack-pated,
There are but few.
O wad the fornicator loun
But swill your halesome potion down!
It wad mair pleasure, late and soon,
Gi'e to his mind,
Than ony way beneath the moon
That he will find.
But swill your halesome potion down!
It wad mair pleasure, late and soon,
Gi'e to his mind,
Than ony way beneath the moon
That he will find.
But, since he's o' the rhyming clan,
Wha seldom wisdom's counsels scan,
I fear he winna tak' the plan
Laid out by reason,
Till he by want be forced to ban,
When out o' season.
Wha seldom wisdom's counsels scan,
I fear he winna tak' the plan
Laid out by reason,
Till he by want be forced to ban,
When out o' season.
The rhymin' speelers o' Parnassus
Are aft wud rakes amang the lasses,
Whether they're drill'd in college classes,
'Neath logic sly,
Or school'd amang the bent and masses,
Like you or I.
Are aft wud rakes amang the lasses,
Whether they're drill'd in college classes,
'Neath logic sly,
Or school'd amang the bent and masses,
Like you or I.
Hail, Poetry! thou art divine,
I kneel, I bow before thy shrine;
O would the verdant laurel twine
About my bonnet!
Nae higher aim I'd ha'e than shine
In Scottish sonnet.
I kneel, I bow before thy shrine;
O would the verdant laurel twine
About my bonnet!
Nae higher aim I'd ha'e than shine
In Scottish sonnet.
279
The mystic magic o' the art
To me did pleasure aye impart,
Since I could wauchle at a cart,
Or pu' a tether;
E'en when secluded far apart
'Mang haggs and heather.
To me did pleasure aye impart,
Since I could wauchle at a cart,
Or pu' a tether;
E'en when secluded far apart
'Mang haggs and heather.
Thus, frae society exiled,
Far in the dreary moorland wild,
The langest day I've aft beguiled
Wi' Ramsay's lays,
Wha sang the shepherd's manners mild,
In former days:
Far in the dreary moorland wild,
The langest day I've aft beguiled
Wi' Ramsay's lays,
Wha sang the shepherd's manners mild,
In former days:
Or when I conn'd the witty turns
O' far-famed, shrewd, immortal Burns—
Chields wha ha'e planted round their urns
The laurel tree:
What feeling heart their fate but mourns
Wi' tearfu' e'e?
O' far-famed, shrewd, immortal Burns—
Chields wha ha'e planted round their urns
The laurel tree:
What feeling heart their fate but mourns
Wi' tearfu' e'e?
Hech! how my breast distends wi' pride,
To think that mossy Calder's side
Can boast o' bards wha needna hide
Their warks frae ony;
Then let us blateness lay aside,
Blithe-hearted cronie!
To think that mossy Calder's side
Can boast o' bards wha needna hide
Their warks frae ony;
Then let us blateness lay aside,
Blithe-hearted cronie!
Lang may the muse frequent your noddle,
Lang may your purse contain a bodle,
Lang may you owre the green fields toddle,
In store o' health,
And lead a life o' virtuous model,
Mair worth than wealth.
Lang may your purse contain a bodle,
Lang may you owre the green fields toddle,
In store o' health,
And lead a life o' virtuous model,
Mair worth than wealth.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |