The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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THE SHARK;
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
THE SHARK;
OR LANG MILLS DETECTED.
“Yes, while I live, no rude or sordid knave
Shall walk the world in credit to his grave.”
—Pope.
Shall walk the world in credit to his grave.”
—Pope.
Ye weaver blades! ye noble chiels!
Wha fill our land wi' plenty,
And mak our vera barest fiels
To waive wi' ilka dainty;
Defend yoursels, tak sicker heed,
I warn you as a brither;
Or Shark's resolved, wi' hellish greed,
To gorge us a' thegither,
At ance this day.
Wha fill our land wi' plenty,
And mak our vera barest fiels
To waive wi' ilka dainty;
Defend yoursels, tak sicker heed,
I warn you as a brither;
Or Shark's resolved, wi' hellish greed,
To gorge us a' thegither,
At ance this day.
58
In Gude's-name will we ne'er get free
O' thieves and persecution!
Will Satan never let abee
To plot our dissolution!
Ae scoun'rel sinks us to the pit,
Wi' his eternal curses,
Anither granes,—and prays,—and yet
Contrives to toom our purses,
Maist every day.
O' thieves and persecution!
Will Satan never let abee
To plot our dissolution!
Ae scoun'rel sinks us to the pit,
Wi' his eternal curses,
Anither granes,—and prays,—and yet
Contrives to toom our purses,
Maist every day.
A higher aim gars Willy think,
And deeper schemes he's brewin';
Ten thousan' fouk at ance to sink
To poverty and ruin!
Hail mighty patriot! Noble soul!
Sae generous, and sae civil,
Sic vast designs deserve the whole
Applauses of the devil
On ony day.
And deeper schemes he's brewin';
Ten thousan' fouk at ance to sink
To poverty and ruin!
Hail mighty patriot! Noble soul!
Sae generous, and sae civil,
Sic vast designs deserve the whole
Applauses of the devil
On ony day.
In vain we've toiled wi' head and heart,
And constant deep inspection,
For years on years, to bring this art
So nearly to perfection;
The mair that art and skill deserve,
The greedier Will advances;
And saws and barrels only serve
To heighten our expenses
And wrath this day.
And constant deep inspection,
For years on years, to bring this art
So nearly to perfection;
The mair that art and skill deserve,
The greedier Will advances;
And saws and barrels only serve
To heighten our expenses
And wrath this day.
But know, to thy immortal shame,
While stands a paper-spot,
So long, great Squeeze-the-poor! thy fame,
Thy blasted fame shall rot;
And as a brick or limestane kiln
Wi' sooty reek advances;
So grateful shall thy mem'ry still
Be to our bitter senses,
By night or day.
While stands a paper-spot,
So long, great Squeeze-the-poor! thy fame,
Thy blasted fame shall rot;
59
Wi' sooty reek advances;
So grateful shall thy mem'ry still
Be to our bitter senses,
By night or day.
Lang Willy Shark wi' greedy snout
Had sneaked about the C---n---l,
To eat his beef and booze about,
Nor proved at drinking punch ill;
Till, Judas-like, he got the bag,
And squeezed it to a jelly;
Thae war the days for Will to brag,
And blest times for the belly
Ilk ither day.
Had sneaked about the C---n---l,
To eat his beef and booze about,
Nor proved at drinking punch ill;
Till, Judas-like, he got the bag,
And squeezed it to a jelly;
Thae war the days for Will to brag,
And blest times for the belly
Ilk ither day.
The mair we get by heuk and cruk
We aften grow the greedier;
Shark raiket now through every neuk
To harl till him speedier;
His ghastly conscience, pale and spent,
Was summoned up, right clever;
Syne, wi' an execration sent
Aff, henceforth and for ever,
Frae him that day.
We aften grow the greedier;
Shark raiket now through every neuk
To harl till him speedier;
His ghastly conscience, pale and spent,
Was summoned up, right clever;
Syne, wi' an execration sent
Aff, henceforth and for ever,
Frae him that day.
This done, trade snoovt awa wi' skill
And wonderfu' extention;
And widen't soon was every mill,
(A dexterous invention!)
Groat after groat, was clippet aff,
Frae ae thing and anither;
Till fouk began to think on draff,
To help to haud thegither
Their banes that day.
And wonderfu' extention;
And widen't soon was every mill,
(A dexterous invention!)
Groat after groat, was clippet aff,
Frae ae thing and anither;
Till fouk began to think on draff,
To help to haud thegither
Their banes that day.
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Now round frae cork to cork he trots
Wi' eagerness and rigour,
And “Rump the petticoats and spots!”
His Sharkship roared wi' vigour;
But, whan his harnishes cam in
In dizens in a morning;
And a' grew desolate and grim,
His rapture changed to mourning,
And rage that day.
Wi' eagerness and rigour,
And “Rump the petticoats and spots!”
His Sharkship roared wi' vigour;
But, whan his harnishes cam in
In dizens in a morning;
And a' grew desolate and grim,
His rapture changed to mourning,
And rage that day.
Thus Haman, in the days of yore,
Pufft up wi' spitefu' evil,
Amang his blackguard, wicked core,
Contrived to play the devil;
High stood the gibbet's dismal cape,
But little thought the sinner
That he had caft the vera rape
Wad rax his neck, e'er dinner
Was owre that day.
Pufft up wi' spitefu' evil,
Amang his blackguard, wicked core,
Contrived to play the devil;
High stood the gibbet's dismal cape,
But little thought the sinner
That he had caft the vera rape
Wad rax his neck, e'er dinner
Was owre that day.
Wha cou'd believe a chiel sae trig
Wad cheat us o' a bodle?
Or that sae fair a gowden wig
Contained sae black a noddle?
But Shark beneath a sleekit smile
Conceals his fiercest girning;
And, like his neighbours of the Nile,
Devours wi' little warning
By night or day.
Wad cheat us o' a bodle?
Or that sae fair a gowden wig
Contained sae black a noddle?
But Shark beneath a sleekit smile
Conceals his fiercest girning;
And, like his neighbours of the Nile,
Devours wi' little warning
By night or day.
O happy is that man and blest
Wha in the C---n---l gets him!
Soon may he cram his greedy kist
And dare a soul to touch him.
But should some poor auld wife, by force
O' poortith scrimp her measure,
Her cursed reels at P---y Corse,
Wad bleeze wi' meikle pleasure
To them that day.
Wha in the C---n---l gets him!
Soon may he cram his greedy kist
And dare a soul to touch him.
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O' poortith scrimp her measure,
Her cursed reels at P---y Corse,
Wad bleeze wi' meikle pleasure
To them that day.
Whiles, in my sleep, methinks I see
Thee marching through the city,
And Hangman Jock, wi' girnan glee,
Proceeding to his duty.
I see thy dismal phiz and back,
While Jock, his stroke to strengthen,
Brings down his brows at every swack,
“I'll learn your frien' to lengthen,
Your mills the day.”
Thee marching through the city,
And Hangman Jock, wi' girnan glee,
Proceeding to his duty.
I see thy dismal phiz and back,
While Jock, his stroke to strengthen,
Brings down his brows at every swack,
“I'll learn your frien' to lengthen,
Your mills the day.”
Poor wretch! in sic a dreadfu' hour
O' blude and dirt and hurry,
What wad thy saftest luke or sour
Avail to stap their fury?
Lang Mills, wad rise around thy lugs
In mony a horrid volley;
And thou be kicket to the dugs,
To think upo' thy folly
Ilk after day.
O' blude and dirt and hurry,
What wad thy saftest luke or sour
Avail to stap their fury?
Lang Mills, wad rise around thy lugs
In mony a horrid volley;
And thou be kicket to the dugs,
To think upo' thy folly
Ilk after day.
Ye Senators! whase wisdom deep
Keeps a' our matters even,
If sic a wretch ye dare to keep,
How can ye hope for heaven?
Kick out the scoun'rel to his shift,
We'll pay him for his sporting,
And sen' his mills and him adrift
At ance to try their fortune
Down Cart this day.
Keeps a' our matters even,
If sic a wretch ye dare to keep,
How can ye hope for heaven?
Kick out the scoun'rel to his shift,
We'll pay him for his sporting,
And sen' his mills and him adrift
At ance to try their fortune
Down Cart this day.
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Think, thou unconscionable Shark!
For heaven's sake bethink thee!
To what a depth of horrors dark
Sic wark will surely sink thee—
Repent of sic enormous sins,
And drap thy curst intention;
Or faith I fear, wi' brislt shins,
Thou'lt mind this reprehension
Some future day.
For heaven's sake bethink thee!
To what a depth of horrors dark
Sic wark will surely sink thee—
Repent of sic enormous sins,
And drap thy curst intention;
Or faith I fear, wi' brislt shins,
Thou'lt mind this reprehension
Some future day.
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |