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 works of Allan Ramsay |  |
116
The Parrat
An honest Man had tint his Wife,
And, wearied of a dowy Life,
Thought a Perroquet bade maist fair,
With tatling to divert his Care:
For the good Woman sair he griev'd;
He'ad needed nane if she had liv'd!
And, wearied of a dowy Life,
Thought a Perroquet bade maist fair,
With tatling to divert his Care:
For the good Woman sair he griev'd;
He'ad needed nane if she had liv'd!
Streight to a Bird man's Shop he hies,
Who, stock'd with a' that wing the Skies,
And give Delight with Feathers fair,
Or please with a Melodious Air,
Larks, Gowdspinks, Mavises and Linties,
Baith hame bred, and frae foreign Countries;
Of Parrats he had curious Choice,
Carefully bred to make a Noise:
The very warst had learn'd his Tale,
To ask a Cup of Sack or Ale:
Cry Westlin Herrings, or fresh Salmons,
White Sand, or Norway Nuts like Almonds.—
Delighted with their various Claver,
While Wealth made all his Wits to waver,
He cast his Look beneath the Board,
Where stood ane that spake ne'er a Word:
Pray, what art thou stands speechless there?—
Reply'd the Bird,—I think the mair.
The Buyer says, Thy Answer's wise,
And thee I'll have at any Price.—
What must you have?—Five Pounds.—'Tis thine
The Money, and the Bird is mine.—
Who, stock'd with a' that wing the Skies,
And give Delight with Feathers fair,
Or please with a Melodious Air,
Larks, Gowdspinks, Mavises and Linties,
Baith hame bred, and frae foreign Countries;
Of Parrats he had curious Choice,
Carefully bred to make a Noise:
The very warst had learn'd his Tale,
To ask a Cup of Sack or Ale:
Cry Westlin Herrings, or fresh Salmons,
White Sand, or Norway Nuts like Almonds.—
Delighted with their various Claver,
While Wealth made all his Wits to waver,
He cast his Look beneath the Board,
Where stood ane that spake ne'er a Word:
Pray, what art thou stands speechless there?—
Reply'd the Bird,—I think the mair.
The Buyer says, Thy Answer's wise,
And thee I'll have at any Price.—
What must you have?—Five Pounds.—'Tis thine
The Money, and the Bird is mine.—
Now in his Room this feather'd Sage
Is hung up in a gilded Cage,
The Master's Expectation's fully,
Possest to hear him tauk like Tully:
But a hale Month is past and gane,
He never hears a Rhime but ane;
Still in his Lugs he hears it rair,
The less I speak, I think the mair.
Confound ye for a silly Sot,
What a dull Idiot have I got!
As dull my sell, on short Acquaintance
To judge of ane by a single Sentence.
Is hung up in a gilded Cage,
The Master's Expectation's fully,
Possest to hear him tauk like Tully:
117
He never hears a Rhime but ane;
Still in his Lugs he hears it rair,
The less I speak, I think the mair.
Confound ye for a silly Sot,
What a dull Idiot have I got!
As dull my sell, on short Acquaintance
To judge of ane by a single Sentence.
| The works of Allan Ramsay | |