And send us, from thy bounteous store,
A tup or wether head! Amen.————
O Lord, since we have feasted thus,
Which we so little merit,
Let Meg now take away the flesh,
And Jock bring in the spirit! Amen.
Similar Posts
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…
Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,Let him draw near;And owre this grassy heap sing dool,And drap a tear.Is there a bard of rustic song,Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,That weekly this area throng,O, pass not by!But, with a frater-feeling strong,Here, heave a sigh.Is there a man, whose judgment clearCan others teach the course…
O THOU, in whom we live and move—
Thy goodness constantly we prove,And grateful would adore;And, if it please Thee, Power above!Still grant us, with such store,The friend we trust, the fair we love—And we desire no more. Amen!
HOW cruel are the parents
And to the wealthy boobyPoor Woman sacrifice!Meanwhile, the hapless DaughterHas but a choice of strife;To shun a tyrant Father’s hate—Become a wretched Wife.The ravening hawk pursuing,The trembling dove thus flies,To shun impelling ruin,Awhile her pinions tries;Till, of escape despairing,No shelter or retreat,She trusts the ruthless Falconer,And drops beneath his feet.
As I was a-wand’ring ae morning in spring,
And as he was singin’, thir words he did say, –There’s nae life like the ploughman’s in the month o’ sweet May.The lav’rock in the morning she’ll rise frae her nest,And mount i’ the air wi’ the dew on her breast,And wi’ the merry ploughman she’ll whistle and sing,And at night she’ll return to her…
Chorus—O gude ale comes and gude ale goes;
Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon—Gude ale keeps my heart aboon!I HAD sax owsen in a pleugh,And they drew a’ weel eneugh:I sell’d them a’ just ane by ane—Gude ale keeps the heart aboon!O gude ale comes, &c.Gude ale hauds me bare and busy,Gars me moop wi’ the servant hizzie,Stand i’ the stool when…