 | Poems on several subjects |  |
57
An Epistle to Mr Allan Ramsay.
SIR,
Your name and fame has spread sae far off,
I doubt 'tis mare than I'm aware of;
For troth, Sir, I maun tell ye,
Your head's sae fu' of canty tales,
That scoups o'er many muirs and dales,
Likewise in ilka valley,
That I'm amaist made to sing dumb,
And break my quill asunder;
And naething say, but maunt and mum,
When you begin to thunder
Out mony things, and bonny things,
That's ilka ane's delight,
That ae man, nor nae man,
Your canty tales can slight;
I doubt 'tis mare than I'm aware of;
For troth, Sir, I maun tell ye,
Your head's sae fu' of canty tales,
That scoups o'er many muirs and dales,
Likewise in ilka valley,
That I'm amaist made to sing dumb,
And break my quill asunder;
And naething say, but maunt and mum,
When you begin to thunder
Out mony things, and bonny things,
That's ilka ane's delight,
That ae man, nor nae man,
Your canty tales can slight;
But praise them ay for wally droll;
He's but a fool that will control
Your witty wanton verse;
For a' the poets o' the nation
May come unto your coronation,
And ay your praise rehearse.
Some with laurel, some with bays,
To crown your Laureat,
And say, Haith Allan has bright rays
That shine aboon our pat.
Our quills a', and wills a',
Can never reach so far;
He thinks ay, and blinks ay,
Bright as the clearest star.
He's but a fool that will control
Your witty wanton verse;
For a' the poets o' the nation
May come unto your coronation,
And ay your praise rehearse.
Some with laurel, some with bays,
To crown your Laureat,
And say, Haith Allan has bright rays
That shine aboon our pat.
Our quills a', and wills a',
Can never reach so far;
He thinks ay, and blinks ay,
Bright as the clearest star.
When I came hame, ilk ane came speering,
I scarcely cou'd gi' them an hearing,
They were sae unca busie.
Said they, O Sandy, saw you Allan,
And was you in within his dwelling?
Pray tell us what like is he?
Said I, my memory is nae meikle,
To tell you a' his marks;
Read's epistle to's friend Arbruckle,
Set down amang his warks:
He shaws a' his laws a',
And principles ilk ane;
His stature and nature,
He tells it till Amen.
I scarcely cou'd gi' them an hearing,
They were sae unca busie.
Said they, O Sandy, saw you Allan,
And was you in within his dwelling?
Pray tell us what like is he?
58
To tell you a' his marks;
Read's epistle to's friend Arbruckle,
Set down amang his warks:
He shaws a' his laws a',
And principles ilk ane;
His stature and nature,
He tells it till Amen.
I would be unca well content,
To see my writings put in prent,
And syne hae them to read.
I pray you, send me word about it;
For ilk ane says, they deadly doubt if,
That ever they will be it.
Yet I do bid them thole a while,
Till ance the spring come in;
They'll gar ye a' baith laugh and smile,
Till water your eyes blin.
When linking and clinking,
You see them thro' ilk shire;
Syne sma' folk, and a folk,
Will buy them wi' desire.
To see my writings put in prent,
And syne hae them to read.
I pray you, send me word about it;
For ilk ane says, they deadly doubt if,
That ever they will be it.
Yet I do bid them thole a while,
Till ance the spring come in;
They'll gar ye a' baith laugh and smile,
Till water your eyes blin.
When linking and clinking,
You see them thro' ilk shire;
Syne sma' folk, and a folk,
Will buy them wi' desire.
A. Nicol.
| Poems on several subjects | |