The works of Alexander Pennecuik of New-Hall, M.D.; containing the description of Tweeddale, and miscellaneous poems. A new edition, with copious notes, forming a complete history of the county to the present time. To which are prefixed, memoirs of Dr Pennecuik, and a map of the shire of Peebles, or Tweeddale |
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A REPLY TO THE SCURVY LINES OF ONE MR GOOL, MINISTER OF KIRKMICHAEL,
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 | The works of Alexander Pennecuik |  |
A REPLY TO THE SCURVY LINES OF ONE MR GOOL, MINISTER OF KIRKMICHAEL,
WHICH HE DESIGNED IN ANSWER TO THE BRANDY BOTTLE, AND IN JUSTIFICATION OF HIS BRETHREN THE MURDERERS OF GRAY-BEARD.
Infamous scribbler, Nature's fool and shame,O senseless satyr, beast without a name,
Thou scandal to devotion, scurvy priest,
Why made thou earnest of a merry jest?
Base balladero, had thou no remorse
To turn poor Gray-beard's cause from bad to worse?
I'll make thy sland'ring tongue for ever smart,
Though it run parallel with thy false heart;
And cudgel thy dry carcase into tears,
Were it not for the sacred coat thou wears.
What mortal can read manners good, or grace,
In the dark lanthorn of thy gipsy face,
Thou nasty negro, filthy reesty ram,
O skin like that of a Westphalia ham!
Egyptian mummy, out of sight, begone
With thy foul corpse and stinking skeleton.
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At thy first view would soon abortive prove,
If by misfortune she should chance to see
So foul a compend of deformity.
Officious Gool, where were thy saucy brags,
When Gulan stript thee from thy lousie rags?
And will thou verify the general evil,
Let beggar's ride they'll gallop to the Devil?
Did this look gospel like, Gool, dare thou say it,
To drink a poor man's Brandy, and not pay it?
Or was it seemly for a man that preaches,
To steal away the bottle in his breeches?
Look that thy absence make thee not despair
And hang thyself, because thou miss'd thy share;
For sure it was, it put thee in a rapture,
That thou forgot both prayers, grace, and chapter.
Why doth this fellow thus his folly vent,
Doth Bo or he our whole Church represent;
Though some of you live far unlike your station,
Should this injure your brethren's reputation?
Amongst the apostles was there not a cheat;
And see we not the tares grow with the wheat?
Do hissing snakes cloud the fair glist'ring morn?
And grow not naughty guilds among the corn?
Now by thy answer, pedant, thou dost vaunt,
That Spaniards wear mustachios, but beards want.
Peace, peace, fool Andrew, let that theme alone,
I've seen five hundred Spaniards to thy one;
And yet, I swear, of all that sun-burnt crew,
I saw not one had thy prodigious hue.
Turn o'er your books, to end this needless war,
And read but Strado on the Belgic War;
Where you will see De Alva's beard and face
The Dutch drew on their bottles in disgrace:
Clap to thy stomach this my blist'ring plaster,
And learn no more to meddle with thy master;
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I fear not thee, far less Tam Souter Harper,
Whom I could whip, but credit me restrains,
Because the fellow is not worth my pains.
Now shew thyself great Cæsar man or nihil,
O Gool, thou fool! mock preacher at Kirkmichael.
| The works of Alexander Pennecuik | |