Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed.
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WHILE Europe’s eye is fix’d on mighty things,
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,And even children lisp the Rights of Man;Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,The Rights of Woman merit some attention.First, in the Sexes’ intermix’d connection,One sacred Right of Woman is, protection.—The tender flower that lifts its head, elate,Helpless, must fall before the blasts of Fate,Sunk on…
LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,
Like winter on me seizes,Since my young Highland roverFar wanders nations over.Where’er he go, where’er he stray,May heaven be his warden;Return him safe to fair Strathspey,And bonie Castle-Gordon!The trees, now naked groaning,Shall soon wi’ leaves be hinging,The birdies dowie moaning,Shall a’ be blythely singing,And every flower be springing;Sae I’ll rejoice the lee-lang day,When by his…
RIGHT, sir! your text I’ll prove it true,
For instance, there’s yourself just now,God knows, an unco calf.And should some patron be so kind,As bless you wi’ a kirk,I doubt na, sir but then we’ll find,Ye’re still as great a stirk.But, if the lover’s raptur’d hour,Shall ever be your lot,Forbid it, ev’ry heavenly Power,You e’er should be a stot!Tho’ when some kind connubial…
O WILLIE 1 brew’d a peck o’ maut,
Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night,Ye wadna found in Christendie.Chorus.—We are na fou, we’re nae that fou,But just a drappie in our ee;The cock may craw, the day may dawAnd aye we’ll taste the barley bree.Here are we met, three merry boys,Three merry boys I trow are we;And mony a night we’ve merry been,And mony…
HOW cold is that bosom which folly once fired,
How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired,How dull is that ear which to flatt’ry so listen’d!If sorrow and anguish their exit await,From friendship and dearest affection remov’d;How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate,Thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unlov’d.Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you;So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not…
WE cam na here to view your warks,
But only, lest we gang to hell,It may be nae surprise:But when we tirl’d at your doorYour porter dought na hear us;Sae may, shou’d we to Hell’s yetts come,Your billy Satan sair us!