Poems and Songs Read Online

–

O were yon hills and vallies mine,

Yon palace and yon gardens fine;

The world then the love should know

I bear my Highland Lassie, O. –

Within the glen &c.

But fickle Fortune frowns on me,

And I maun cross the raging sea;

But while my crimson currents flow,

I love my Highland Lassie, O. –

Within the glen &c.

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,

I know her heart will never change;

For her bosom burns with honor's glow,

My faithful Highland Lassie, O. –

Within the glen &c.

For her I'll dare the billow's roar;

For her I'll trace a distant shore;

That Indian wealth may lustre throw

Around my Highland Lassie, O. –

Within the glen &c.

She has my heart, she has my hand,

By secret Truth and Honor's band:

Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,

I'm thine, my Highland Lassie, O. –

Farewel, the glen sae bushy! O. –

Farewel, the plain sae rashy! O. –

To other lands I now must go

To sing my Highland Lassie, O. –

[Address of Beelzebub]

To the Rt Honble JOHN, EARL OF BREADALBANE, President of the Rt Honble the HIGHLAND SOCIETY, which met, on the 23d of May last, at the Shakespeare, Covent garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of FIVE HUNDRED HIGHLANDERS who, as the Society were informed by Mr McKenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an escape from theire lawful lords and masters whose property they are emigrating from the lands of Mr McDonald of Glengary to the wilds of CANADA, in search of that fantastic thing – LIBERTY –

Long life, My lord, an' health be yours,

Unskaith'd by hunger'd HIGHLAN BOORS!

Lord grant, nae duddie, desp'rate beggar,

Wi' durk, claymore, or rusty trigger

May twin auld SCOTLAND o' a LIFE,

She likes – as BUTCHERS like a KNIFE!

Faith, you and Applecross were right

To keep the highlan hounds in sight!

I doubt na! they wad bid nae better

Than let them ance out owre the water;

Then up amang thae lakes an' seas

They'll mak what rules an' laws they please.

Some daring Hancocke, or a Frankline,

May set their HIGHLAN bluid a ranklin;

Some Washington again may head them,

Or some MONTGOMERY, fearless, lead them;

Till, God knows what may be effected,

When by such HEADS an' HEARTS directed:

Poor, dunghill sons of dirt an' mire,

May to PATRICIAN RIGHTS ASPIRE;

Nae sage North, now, nor sager Sackville,

To watch an' premier owre the pack vile!

An' whare will ye get Howes an' Clintons

To bring them to a right repentance,

To cowe the rebel generation,

An' save the honor o' the NATION?

THEY! an' be d–mn'd! what right hae they

To Meat, or Sleep, or light o' day,

Far less to riches, pow'r, or freedom,

But what your lordships PLEASE TO GIE THEM?

BUT, hear me, my lord! Glengary, hear!

Your HAND'S OWRE LIGHT ON THEM, I fear:

Your FACTORS, GREIVES, TRUSTEES an' BAILIES,

I canna say but they do gailies;

They lay aside a' tender mercies

An' tirl the HALLIONS to the BIRSIES;

Yet, while they're only poin'd, and herriet,

They'll keep their stubborn Highlan spirit.

But smash them! crush them a' to spails!

An' rot the DYVORS i' the JAILS!

The young dogs, swinge them to the labour,

Let WARK an' HUNGER mak them sober!

The HIZZIES, if they're oughtlins fausont,

Let them in DRURY LANE be lesson'd!

An' if the wives, an' dirty brats,

Come thiggan at your doors an' yets,

Flaffan wi' duds, an' grey wi' beese,

Frightan awa your deucks an' geese;

Get out a HORSE-WHIP, or a JOWLER,

The langest thong, the fiercest growler,

An' gar the tatter'd gipseys pack

Wi' a' their bastarts on their back!

Go on, my lord! I lang to meet you

An' in my HOUSE AT HAME to greet you;

Wi' COMMON LORDS ye shanna mingle,

The benmost newk, beside the ingle

At my right hand, assign'd your seat

»Tween HEROD'S hip, an« POLYCRATE;

Or, if ye on your station tarrow,

Between ALMAGRO and PIZARRO;

A seat, I'm sure ye're weel deservin't;

An' till ye come – your humble servant

BEELZEBUB.

HELL 1st June Anno Mundi 5790

Libel Summons –

In Truth and Honour's name – AMEN –

Know all men by these Presents plain: –

This fourth o' June, at Mauchline given,

The year 'tween eighty five and seven,

WE, Fornicators by profession,

As per extractum from each Session,

In way and manner here narrated,

Pro bono Amor congregated;

And by our brethren constituted,

A COURT OF EQUITY deputed. –

WITH special authoris'd direction

To take beneath our strict protection,

The stays – out-bursting, quondam maiden,

With GROWING LIFE and anguish laden;

Who by the rascal is deny'd,

That led her thoughtless steps aside. –

He who disowns the ruin'd Fair-one,

And for her wants and woes does care none;

The wretch that can refuse subsistence

To those whom he has given existence;

He who when at a lass's by-job,

Defrauds her wi' a fr–g or dry–b–b;

The coof that stands on clishmaclavers

When women haflins offer favors: –

All who in any way or manner

Distain the Fornicator's honor,

We take cognisance thereanent,

The proper Judges competent. –

FIRST, POET B–S he takes the chair;

Allow'd by a', his title's fair;

And pass'd nem. con. without dissension,

He has a DUPLICATE pretension. –

Next, Merchant SMITH, our worthy FISCAL,

To cow each pertinaceous rascal;

In this, as every other state,

His merit is conspicuous great:

RICHMOND the third, our trusty CLERK,

The minutes regular to mark,

And sit dispenser of the law,

In absence of the former twa;

The fourth our MESSENGER AT ARMS,

When failing all the milder terms,

HUNTER, a hearty, willing brother,

Weel skill'd in 1dead and living leather. –

Without PREAMBLE less or more said,

WE, body politic aforesaid,

With legal, due WHEREAS, and WHEREFORE,

We are appointed here to care for

The interests of our constituents,

And punish contraveening truants,

Keeping a proper regulation

Within the lists of FORNICATION. –

WHEREAS, our FISCAL, by petition,

Informs us there is strong suspicion,

You, Coachman 2Dow, and Clockie 3BROWN,

Baith residenters in this town;

In other words, you, JOCK, and, SANDY,

Hae been at wark at HOUGHMAGANDIE;

And now when facts are come to light,

The matter ye deny outright. –

FIRST, YOU, JOHN BROWN, there's witness borne,

And affidavit made and sworn,

That ye hae bred a hurly-burly

'Bout JEANY MITCHEL'S tirlie-whirlie,

And blooster'd at her regulator,

Till a' her wheels gang clitter-clatter. –

And farther still, ye cruel Vandal,

A tale might even in hell be scandal!

That ye hae made repeated trials

Wi' drugs and draps in doctor's phials,

Mixt, as ye thought, wi' fell infusion,

Your ain begotten wean to poosion. –

And yet ye are sae scant o' grace,

Ye daur to lift your brazen face,

And offer for to take your aith,

Ye never lifted JEANY'S claith. –

But tho' ye should yoursel manswear,

Laird Wilson's sclates can witness bear,

Ae e'ening of a MAUCHLINE fair,

That JEANY'S masts they saw them bare;

For ye had furl'd up her sails,

And was at play – at heads and tails. –

NEXT, SANDY DOW, you're here indicted

To have, as publickly you're wyted,

Been clandestinely upward whirlin

The petticoats o' MAGGY BORELAN,

And giein her canister a rattle,

That months to come it winna settle. –

And yet, ye offer your protest,

Ye never herried Maggy's nest;

Tho', it's weel ken'd that at her gyvel

Ye hae gien mony a kytch and kyvel. –

THEN BROWN AND DOW, before design'd,

For clags and clauses there subjoin'd,

WE, Court aforesaid, cite and summon,

That on the fifth o' July comin,

The hour o' cause, in our Court-ha',

At Whitefoord's arms, ye answer LAW!

[But, as reluctantly we PUNISH,

An' rather, mildly would admonish:

Since Better PUNISHMENT prevented,

Than OBSTINACY sair repented. –

THEN, for that ANCIENT SECRET'S SAKE,

You have the honor to partake;

An' for that NOBLE BADGE you wear,

YOU, SANDIE DOW, our BROTHER dear,

We give you as a MAN an' MASON,

This private, sober, friendly lesson. –

YOUR CRIME, a manly deed we view it,

As MAN ALONE, can only do it;

But, in denial persevering,

Is to a SCOUNDREL'S NAME adhering.

The BEST O' MEN, hae been surpris'd;

The BEST O' WOMEN been advis'd:

NAY, CLEVEREST LADS hae haen a TRICK O'T,

AN', BONNIEST LASSES taen a LICK O'T. –

Then Brother Dow, if you're asham'd

In such a QUORUM to be nam'd,

Your conduct much is to be blam'd.

See, ev'n HIMSEL – there's GODLY BRYAN,

The auld WHATRECK he has been tryin;

When such as he put to their han',

What man on CHARACTER need stan'?

Then Brother dear, lift up your brow,

And, like yoursel, the TRUTH avow;

Erect a dauntless face upon it,

An' say, »I am the man has done it;

I SANDIE DOW GAT MEG WI' WEAN,

An's fit to do as much again.«

Ne'er mind their solemn rev'rend faces,

Had they – in proper times an' places,

But SEEN AN' FUN' – I mukle dread it,

They just would done as you an' WE did. –

TO TELL THE TRUTH'S a manly lesson,

An' doubly proper in A MASON. –

YOU MONSIEUR BROWN, as it is proven,

JEAN MITCHEL'S wame by you was hoven;

Without you by a quick repentance

Acknowledge Jean's an' your acquaintance,

Depend on't, this shall be your sentence. –

Our beadles to the Cross shall take you,

And there shall mither naked make you;

Some canie grip near by your middle,

They shall it bind as tight's a fiddle;

The raep they round the PUMP shall tak

An' tye your han's behint your back;

Wi' just an ell o' string allow'd

To jink an' hide you frae the croud:

There ye shall stan', a legal seizure,

In during Jeanie Mitchel's pleasure;

So be, her pleasure dinna pass

Seven turnings of a half-hour glass:

Nor shall it in her pleasure be

To louse you out in less than THREE.