The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill ... A New Edition, Corrected and Enlarged. In Two Volumes |
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TO THE MEMBERS OF THE SOBER SOCIETY;
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 | The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill |  |
74
TO THE MEMBERS OF THE SOBER SOCIETY;
SENT WITH AN ENGRAVING .
Dear sober emptyers o'the glass!
Behold your goddess—wife, or lass,
De'il hae me gin I ken;
But weel I wat, gin a'be true,
That here she speaks, ye select few
Are unco kind o'men!
Behold your goddess—wife, or lass,
De'il hae me gin I ken;
But weel I wat, gin a'be true,
That here she speaks, ye select few
Are unco kind o'men!
75
To me (as frankly in a crack
The ither night the jillet spak
Right cheery owre a glass,)
Though hid frae unpoetic brain,
These hieroglyphics speak as plain
As e'er did Balaam's ass.
The ither night the jillet spak
Right cheery owre a glass,)
Though hid frae unpoetic brain,
These hieroglyphics speak as plain
As e'er did Balaam's ass.
Ilk sober brither sure has seen
The moon and seven stars at e'en
Glittering in spangled heaven;
What mean then sax?—the meaning's clear.—
Through a'your meetings in the year
Ye're fou sax times in seven.
The moon and seven stars at e'en
Glittering in spangled heaven;
What mean then sax?—the meaning's clear.—
Through a'your meetings in the year
Ye're fou sax times in seven.
76
Na, mair—by yonder horned moon,
Its clear ye're a'horn-mad as soon
As clocks Beate six ;
Sweet! sweet the sounding warning comes!
And, sitting down on stubborn bums,
Ye a'turn—lunatics.
Its clear ye're a'horn-mad as soon
As clocks Beate six ;
Sweet! sweet the sounding warning comes!
And, sitting down on stubborn bums,
Ye a'turn—lunatics.
O! then, 'tis said, in canty croon,
A writer chiel ca'd Livingston,
Wi' crack and snuff grows cheery;
And dealing round strong punch and joke,
Good-humoured mad, near twa o'clock
Turns a'things tapsilteery!
A writer chiel ca'd Livingston,
Wi' crack and snuff grows cheery;
And dealing round strong punch and joke,
Good-humoured mad, near twa o'clock
Turns a'things tapsilteery!
77
Here wad I stap, nor langer keek
Into thae soberings ilka week,
And hide what I'm no able;
But yon d---d fingers—up and down,
Proclaim whan some are in the moon,
Some lie aneth the table.
Into thae soberings ilka week,
And hide what I'm no able;
But yon d---d fingers—up and down,
Proclaim whan some are in the moon,
Some lie aneth the table.
In these blessed French perverted days
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Whan virtue's blamed, and vice gets praise,
And folk wi' words are sae bit,
Nae wonder sober stands for fou,
And drinkers roar out, while they spew,
‘Virtus tandem Vigebat.’
Whan virtue's blamed, and vice gets praise,
And folk wi' words are sae bit,
Nae wonder sober stands for fou,
And drinkers roar out, while they spew,
‘Virtus tandem Vigebat.’
This engraving had been at some period thrown off for the use of a literary society in London, likewise called the Sober Society. The representation was a female figure, with the finger of one hand pointing to the moon (horned) and six stars overhead; and the finger of the other hand pointing to the ground, with this motto —Virtus tandem Vigebat.
| The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill | |