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The works of Allan Ramsay

edited by Burns Martin ... and John W. Oliver [... and Alexander M. Kinghorn ... and Alexander Law]

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The Monarch Bird with Blythness hard
The chaunting litil Silvan Bard,
Calit up a Buzart, quha was than
His Favourite and Chamberlane.
Swith to my Treasury, quod he,
And to zon canty Robin gie
As mekle of our currant Geir
As may mentain him throw the Zeir;
We can weil spairt, and its his Due,
He bad, and furth the Judas flew,
Straight to the Brench quhair Robin sung,
And with a wickit lieand Tung,
Said, Ah! ze sing sae dull and ruch,
Ze haif deivt our Lugs mair than enuch,

97

His Majestie hes a nyse Eir,
And nae mair of zour Stuff can beir;
Poke up zour Pypes, be nae mair sene
At Court, I warn ze as a Frein.
He spak, quhyle Robinis swelling Breist,
And drouping Wings his Greif,
The Teirs ran happing doun his Cheik,
Grit grew his Hairt, he could nocht speik,
No for the Tinsell of Rewaird,
But that his Notis met nae Regaird;
Straicht to the Schaw he spred his Wing,
Resolvit again nae mair to sing,
Quhair Princelie Bountie is supprest,
By sic with quhome they are opprest,
Quha cannot beir (because they want it)
That ocht suld be to Merit grantit.