1792- poflry. ' ' ^°7 



You L'jnin town an' Embriigh baith. 

 Aft bloodie scenes o' dirt an' death, 

 On da)s like this, had in your wrath, 

 /- An' social be ; 



At Avon feint a ane wad fkaith 

 A very flee. 



To beet the joys o' this day's sport, 

 Our masters, Lord reward them for't! 

 C'e us a fouth o' the best sort 



O' oarley broe, 

 That maks the time seem wond'rous ihort 



An' cheary too. 



As soon's we get our mid. day meal, 

 O' bread an' butter, milk or kail, 

 Then ftanks that ken na how to fail. 



On king's birth day, 

 Upon a floor weel laid wi' dail, 



Hard reels awajr. 



Keen Frazer rubs his fiddle strings, 

 His elback flees as it had wings} 

 Rae at the bafs wi' vigour clings. 



An' weel he playi, 

 While voices at the punch bowl sings 



King George's praise. 



The damsels clean>an' trig, an'- fair, 

 Frifk thro' the re;ls wi' rural air, 

 Nae wanton look., nor bosom.i>are, 



To temp the younkers, 

 Here flefli and blude may safely stare. 



As if at Blonker's •. 



Then yourj, an' auld, an' middle age, 

 Far frae their cares quite thrang eng ge. 

 Whilst harmlefs mirth an' pleasure r.ige. 



How great the blils ! 

 Hech ! life wad be a funny stage 



Were't ay Ijlte this. 

 Sic pleasures maun through time gie way, 

 Nare need expeck they'll las: for ay j 

 1 he Lafs that opes the yetts o' day, 



Wi'' faithfu' heart, 

 Keekt in wi' halesome smiling ray. 



An' b.ds us part. 



Frae her sweet face nae mair »e crave, 

 But just ae dance that dings the Ijve, 

 Bab-at-the-bouster, then wc have, 



Withoutpn fail, 

 Where a' partakes, baith gay and grave, 



An' Sjne we skail. 



• An ugly old fellaw of the place . 



