On the thirst and the huuger that will be so graiving, Far, far from the arms of your Mistress M'Nevin. Mistress M'Nevin,

Mistress M'Nevin:

Och! think not of marching, dair Captain M'Nevin.

Och! do not spaik thus, my swait Love and my beauty,
'Or my heart you will render too soft for my duty;
I can't, without tairs, think of marching and leaving
My all in the world, my swait Mrs. M'Nevin.

Mistress M'Nevin,

Mistress M'Nevin :

Come! we'll just go to bed again, Mistress M'Nevin,

Should the corps be dispos'd at my absence to cavil, I'll swear I was saiz'd with the stone and the gravel, With a pain in the guts that was past all consaiving: Och! I dont like your battles, said Captain M'Nevin. Captain M'Nevin,

Captain M'Nevin :

Och the Deil tak' the wars, said brave Captain M'Nevin:

Now, the Farce let us close, it has serv❜d our occasion, And indulge the just hope, when we hear of Invasion,

That no British soldier the foe at receiving;

Will e'er prove a coward, like Captain M'Nevin. Captain M'Nevin,

Captain M'Nevin:

Confusion to cowards like Captain M'Nevin!

Quid vetat ?.

EDINA.

TO A FRIEND.

-ridentem dicere verum

In jokin' mood, that breaks nae banes,
What harm in telling truth for ance.

COME, canty Muse, an' be advis'd
To tent the Bardie's prayer;
Sent frae a heart, that's no disguis'd,
But wonnerfu' sincere.
My pow, wi' droll ideas fill,

By dint o' Inspiration;
And I'se, o' usquebae a gill,

Pour out in clear libation

To you, this day.

O' auld Edina I wad sing;

Edina blyth an' bonny:

How, for the gear that simmers bring,
She's hardly match'd by ony.

O' wad ye learn me but the gaet,
It to the saul wad cheer me,

HOR.

How I cou'd roar't frae Arthur's seat,
An' gar a' Scotland hear me,

Right loud, this day.

Soon as the sin, frae Thetis' lap,
Out owre the knowes is blinkin';
An' carles, wauken'd frae their nap,
Rise to their rump, hauf winkin':
Whan skirlin' weans, by mithers thrawn,
Are yellochin' an' greetin';

An' lambs, alang the dewy lawn,

In social crouds are bleetin',

At break o' day;

The growlin' fish wives hoise their creels,

Set a' their banes a gellin',

While, mony droll outlandish squeels

Inform ye what they're sellin':

Now many a squad o' yelpin' tongues,
Sae lang practis'd to roarin',

Can gar a yell, by strength o' lungs,
Sound thro' sax lair o' floorin',

An' mair, ilk day.

I dinna think the sin e'er sees
A female gang mair hardy ;
Or hauf sae glib at tellin' lies,
Sae bawdy-tongu'd an' bardy:
Wi' heavy lade ae wife came in,
An', tho' sma' while she tarried,

She fell in twa, wi' little din,

An' hame the getlin' carried

I' the creel, that day.

Now at the Tron-kirk neuk, wi' speed,

The chairmen tak' their staun:

A hardy crew o' Gaelic breed,

A' waitin' for commaun'.

The Cadies, rang'd about the Corse,
For messages ay ready;

To tak' your card, or haud your horse,
Ye'll find them true an' steady

To trust, ilk day.

For Mercury's salt eerands, too.

Fame lang, it's said; has kend them,

But gin its true sic turns they do,
Is kent to them that send them.

To scandalise but whar it's due,
The Musie wad ill set it,

Justice, ye ken, 'tween me an' you,
The vera Deil soud

get it'

Frae a', this day.

Stark Labour now starts to his en',

About the day's darg thinkin'; An' eident draves o' workin' men Alang the Brigs gang linkin'.