 | Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn |  |
ODE NINTH, BOOK FIRST.
To Dr. Scott.
Look out, and see old Arthur's Seat,
Dress'd in a periwig of snow,
Cold sweeps the blast down Niddry Street,
And through the Netherbow.
Dress'd in a periwig of snow,
Cold sweeps the blast down Niddry Street,
And through the Netherbow.
Sharp frost, begone! haste send the maid,
With coals two shovels-full and more;
Fill up your rummers, why afraid,
And bolt the parlour door.—
With coals two shovels-full and more;
Fill up your rummers, why afraid,
And bolt the parlour door.—
Leave all to Fortune, Dr. Scott,
Though tempests growl amid the trees,
While we have rum-punch smoking hot,
We sha'n't most likely freeze.
Though tempests growl amid the trees,
While we have rum-punch smoking hot,
We sha'n't most likely freeze.
A fig about to-morrow's fare!
A twenty thousand prize my buck,
(Nay, do not laugh,) may be my share,
Wont that be rare good luck?
A twenty thousand prize my buck,
(Nay, do not laugh,) may be my share,
Wont that be rare good luck?
189
Doctor, I'm sure you'll toast the fair;
Shame to the tongue would say me nay;
You'll toast them, till the very hair
Of your peruke turn grey.
Shame to the tongue would say me nay;
You'll toast them, till the very hair
Of your peruke turn grey.
St. Giles's spire with snow is white,
And every roof seems overgrown;
Sharp winds that come, at fall of night,
Down High Street closes moan;
And every roof seems overgrown;
Sharp winds that come, at fall of night,
Down High Street closes moan;
There, battering police officers,
Hark! how the mad jades curse and ban
While Polly cuffs some spoonie's ears,
And cries, “Sir, I'm your man!”—
Hark! how the mad jades curse and ban
While Polly cuffs some spoonie's ears,
And cries, “Sir, I'm your man!”—
| Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn | |