Our patron, honest man! Glencairn,

He saw mischief was brewin',
And like a godly élect bairn

He's waled us out a true ane,
And sound this day.

Now, Robertson, harangue nae mair,
But steek your gab for ever;
Or try the wicked town of Ayr,
For there they'll think you clever;
Or, nae reflection on your lear,

Ye may commence a shaver;
Or to the Netherton 2 repair,
And turn a carpet-weaver

8

Aff-hand this day.

Mutrie and you were just a match,

We never had sic twa drones:

close-n.outh

Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,
Just like a winkin' baudrons :

And aye he catched the tither wretch,
To fry them in his caudrons :
But now his honour maun detach,
Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons,

Fast, fast this day.

terwards became an acceptable pastor to his flock, over whom he presided till his death at an advanced age in 1828.

1 The colleague of the newly-ordained clergyman

erate.

2 A portion of the town of Kilmarnock.

-a mod

8 The deceased clergyman whom Mr. Mackinlay succeeded

See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes

She's swingein through the city:

Hark how the nine-tailed cat she plays!
I vow it's unco pretty:

There Learning, with his Greekish face,
Grunts out some Latin ditty,

And Common Sense is gaun, she says,
To mak to Jamie Beattie 1

Her plaint this day.

But there's Morality himsel'
Embracing all opinions;
Hear how he gies the tither yell,

Between his twa companions;
See how she peels the skin and fell,
As ane were peelin' onions!

Now there they're packed aff to h--,
And banished our dominions

Henceforth this day.

Oh happy day! rejoice, rejoice!

Come bouse about the porter!
Morality's demure decoys

Shall here nae mair find quarter:
Mackinlay, Russell, are the boys
That heresy can torture:

1 Probably the well-known author of the Essay on Truth is Local antiquaries are unable to give any other

here meant.

explanation.

They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse,

hoist

And cowe her measure shorter
By th' head some day.

dock

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
And here's for a conclusion:
To every New Light mother's son,

From this time forth, Confusion !
If mair they deave us wi' their din,
Or Patronage intrusion,

We'll light a spunk, and every skin
We'll rin them aff in fusion,

Like oil some day.1

deafen

match

AN ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR

THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.

"My son, these maxims make a rule,

And lump them aye thegither:

The Rigid Righteous is a fool,

The Rigid Wise anither.

The cleanest corn that e'er was dight winnowed

May hae some pyles o' caff in;

So ne'er a fellow-creature slight

For random fits o' daffin."

chaff

folly

We venture, on conjecture, to refer to this period, a poem containing some lines calculated to engrave

1 Mackinlay became a favorite preacher, very much, it is said, in consequence of his "fine manner," for he had little

themselves on the heart, but which did not see the light till after the fame of Burns was established.

Οι ye wha are sae guid yoursel',

Sae pious and sae holy,

Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your neebour's fauts and folly: —
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
Supplied wi' store o' water,
The heaped happer's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter:

Hear me, ye venerable core,

As counsel for poor mortals,

That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door

For glaikit Folly's portals!

I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,

Would here propone defences,

sober

idle

Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes, unlucky

Their failings and mischances.

Ye see your state wi' theirs compared,

And shudder at the niffer :

But cast a moment's fair regard,

What maks the mighty differ? Discount what scant occasion gave That purity ye pride in,

And (what's aft mair than a' the lave)

Your better art o' hiding.

exchange

rest

variety of illustration. He survived till 1841, attaining the Datriarchal age of eighty-five years.

Think, when your castigated pulse

Gies now and then a wallop,
What ragings must his veins convulse,
That still eternal gallop;

Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail,
Right on ye scud your sea-way;
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,
It makes an unco lee-way.

See Social Life and Glee sit down,
All joyous and unthinking,
Till, quite transmugrified, they're grown
Debauchery and Drinking.

Oh would they stay to calculate
Th' eternal consequences!

Or your more dreaded hell to state,
Damnation of expenses !

Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,
Tied up in godly laces,

Before ye gie poor Frailty names,
Suppose a change o' cases;

A dear-loved lad, convenience snug,
A treacherous inclination

But, let me whisper i' your lug,
Ye're aiblins nae temptation.

Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman;
Though they may gang a kennin'

wrang,

ea

perhaps

small matter