The works of Allan Ramsay :: :: University of Virginia Library

To You, My LORDS, whase Elevation
Makes You the Wardens of the Nation,
While You by equal Justice stand,
With Lawtie's Ballance in Your Hand;
To You, whase penetrating Skill
Can eithly redd the Good frae Ill,
And ken them well whase fair Behaviour
Deserve Reward and Royal Favour,
As like you do, these stonkerd Fellows
Wha merit naithing but the Gallows:
To You, with humble Bow, Your Bard,
Whase greatest Brag is Your Regard,
Begs leave to lay his Case before Ye,
And for an Outgate to implore Ye.

Last Year, My Lords, nae farrer gane,
A costly Wark was undertane
By me, wha had not the least Dread
An Act wad knock it on the Head:
A Play-house new, at vast Expence,
To be a large, yet bein Defence,
In Winter-nights, 'gainst Wind and Weet,
To ward frae Cauld the Lasses sweet;
While they with bonny Smiles attended,
To have their little Failures mended;
Where Satire, striving still to free them,
Hads out his Glass, to let them see them.

142

Here, under Rules of right Decorum,
By placing Consequence before 'em,
I kept our Troop, by Pith of Reason,
Frae Bawdy, Atheism, and Treason;
And only preach'd, frae Moral Fable,
The best Instruction they were able;
While they, by Doctrine Linsy Woolsy,
Set aff the Utile with Dulce.

And shall the Man, to whom this Task falls,
Suffer amang confounded Rascals;
That, like vile Adders, dart their Stings,
And fear nae God, nor honour Kings?
Shall I, wha for a Tract of Years
Have sung to Commons and to Peers,
And got the general Approbation
Of all within the British Nation,
At last be twin'd of all my Hopes
By them that wont to be my Props?
Be made a Loser, and engage
With Troubles in declining Age;
While Wights, to whom my Credit stands
For Sums, make sour and thrawin Demands?

Shall London have its Houses twa,
And we be doom'd to've nane ava?
Is our Metrop'lis, anes the Place
Where langsine dwelt the Royal Race
Of Fergus, this gate dwindled down
T'a Level with ilk Claghan Town,
While thus she suffers the Subversion
Of her maist rational Diversion?

When Ice and Snaw o'ercleads the Isle,
Wha now will think it worth their while,
To leave their gowsty Country Bowers,
For, the anes blythsome, Edinburgh's Towers,
Where there's nae Glee to give Delight,
And ward frae Spleen the langsome Night?
For which they'll now have nae Relief,
But sonk at hame, and cleck Mischief.

143

Is there aught better than the Stage,
To mend the Follies of the Age,
If manag'd as it ought to be,
Frae ilka Vice and Blaidry free?
Which may be done, with perfect Ease,
And nought be heard that shall displease,
Or give the least Offence or Pain,
If we can hae't restor'd again.
Wherefore, My Lords, I humbly pray
Our Lads may be allow'd to play,
At least till New-house Debts be paid off,
The Clause that I'm the maist afraid of;
Which Laid lyes on my single Back,
And I maun pay it ilka Plack.

Now, it's but just the Legislature
Shou'd either say that I'm a Fauter,
Or thole me to employ my Bigging,
Or of the Burthen ease my Rigging,
By ord'ring, frae the publick Fund,
A Sum to pay for what I'm bound;
Syne, for a mends for what I've lost,
Edge me into some canny Post,
With the good Liking of our King,
And your Petitioner shall—sing.

Edinburgh, July 25. 1737.