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EXTEMPORE.

TO MR. S** E,

On refusing to dine with him, after baving been promised the first of company, and the first of Cookery.

17th December, 1795.

No more of your guests, be they titled or not,

And cook’ry the first in the nation :
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,

Is proof to all other temptation.

To Mr. S**E,

With a present of a dozen of Porter.

O HAD the malt thy strength of mind,

Or hops the flavour of thy wit ;
'Twere drink for first of human kind,

A gift that e’en for S**e were fit.

Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries.

THE

THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS.

Tune“ PUSH ABOUT THE JORUM.

SH ABOUT

IE JOR

April, 1795.

DOES haughty Gaul invasion threat ?

Then let the loons beware, sir, There's wooden walls upon our seas,

And volunteers on shore, sir. The Nith shall run to Corsincon,*

And Criffel sink in Solway, E'er we permit a foreign foe On British ground to rally!

Fall de rall, &c.

O let us not like snarling tykes

In wrangling be divided ; 'Till slap come in an unco loon

And wi' a rung decide it. VOL. IV.

Cc

* A high hill at the source of the Nith.

+ A well-known mountain at the mouth of the same river. Be Britain still to Britain true,

Amang oursels united ;
For never but by British hands
Maun British wrangs be righted.

Fall de rall, &c.

The kettle o' the kirk and state,

Perhaps a claut may fail in't ;
But deil a foreign tinkler loon

Shall ever ca’ a nail in't.
Our fathers blude the kettle bought,

And wha wad dare to spoil it ;
By heaven the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it.

Fall de rall, &c.

The wretch that wad a tyrant a own,

And the wretch his true-born brother,
Who would set the mob aboon the throne,

May they be damned together?
Who will not sing “God save the king,”

Shall hang as high's the steeple ;
But, while we sing “God save the king,"

We'll ne'er forget the people.

POEM,

POEM,

Addressed to Mr. Mitchell, Collector of Excise,

Dumfries, 1796.

FRIEND of the poet tried and leal,
Wha, wanting thee might beg or steal ;
Alake, alake the meikle deil

Wi' a' his witches
Are at it, skelpin! jig and reel,

In my poor pouches.

I modestly fu' fain wad hint it,
That one pound one, I sairly want it ;
If wi’ the hizzie down ye sent it,

It would be kind;
And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted

. I'd bear't in mind.

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So may the auld year gang out moaning
To see the new come laden, groaning,
Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin

: To thee and thine ; Domestic peace and comforts crowning

The hail design.

POSTSCRIPT.

Ye've heard this while how I've been licket,
And by fell death was nearly nicket:
Grim loon ! he gat me by the fecket,

And sair me sheuk;
But by gude luck I lap a wicket,

And turn'd a neuk.

But by that health, I've got a share o't,
And by that life, I'm promised mair o't,
My hale and weel I'll take a care o't

A tentier way :
Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't

For ance and ay.

Sent

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