Extempore On Some Commemorations Of Thomson
Dost thou not rise, indignant shade, And smile wi’ spurning scorn, When they wha wad hae starved thy life, Thy senseless turf adorn? Helpless, alane, thou clamb the brae, Wi’ meikle honest toil, And claught th’ unfading garland there— Thy sair-worn, rightful spoil. And wear it thou! and call aloud This axiom undoubted— Would thou hae Nobles’ patronage? First learn to live without it! To whom hae much, more shall be given, Is every Great man’s faith; But he, the helpless, needful wretch, Shall lose the mite he hath.
Duncan Gray
Duncan Gray cam’ here to woo, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t, On blythe Yule-night when we were fou, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t, Maggie coost her head fu’ heigh, Look’d asklent and unco skeigh, Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh; Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. Duncan fleech’d and Duncan pray’d; Ha, ha, the wooing o’t, Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t: Duncan sigh’d baith out and in, Grat his e’en baith blear’t an’ blin’, Spak o’ lowpin o’er a linn; Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. Time and Chance are but a tide, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t, Slighted love is sair to bide, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t: Shall I like a fool, quoth he, For a haughty hizzie die? She may gae to—France for me! Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. How it comes let doctors tell, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t; Meg grew sick, as he grew hale, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. Something in her bosom wrings, For relief a sigh she brings: And oh! her een they spak sic things! Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. Duncan was a lad o’ grace, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t: Maggie’s was a piteous case, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t: Duncan could na be her death, Swelling Pity smoor’d his wrath; Now they’re crouse and canty baith, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Here’s A Health To Them That’s Awa
Here’s a health to them that’s awa, Here’s a health to them that’s awa; And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause, May never gude luck be their fa’! It’s gude to be merry and wise, It’s gude to be honest and true; It’s gude to support Caledonia’s cause, And bide by the buff and the blue. Here’s a health to them that’s awa, Here’s a health to them that’s awa, Here’s a health to Charlie1 the chief o’ the clan, Altho’ that his band be but sma’! May Liberty meet wi’ success! May Prudence protect her frae evil! May tyrants and tyranny tine i’ the mist, And wander their way to the devil! Here’s a health to them that’s awa, Here’s a health to them that’s awa; Here’s a health to Tammie,2 the Norlan’ laddie, That lives at the lug o’ the law! Here’s freedom to them that wad read, Here’s freedom to them that wad write, [Footnote 1: Charles James Fox.] [Footnote 2: Hon. Thos. Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskine.] There’s nane ever fear’d that the truth should be heard, But they whom the truth would indite. Here’s a Health to them that’s awa, An’ here’s to them that’s awa! Here’s to Maitland and Wycombe, let wha doesna like ’em Be built in a hole in the wa’; Here’s timmer that’s red at the heart Here’s fruit that is sound at the core; And may he be that wad turn the buff and blue coat Be turn’d to the back o’ the door. Here’s a health to them that’s awa, Here’s a health to them that’s awa; Here’s chieftain M’Leod, a chieftain worth gowd, Tho’ bred amang mountains o’ snaw; Here’s friends on baith sides o’ the firth, And friends on baith sides o’ the Tweed; And wha wad betray old Albion’s right, May they never eat of her bread!