Your critic-folk may cock their nose, And 'How can you e'er propose, say, 'You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, To mak a sang?' But, by your leaves, my learned foes, What's a' your jargon o' your schools, Your Latin names for horns an' stools; If honest nature made you fools, What sairs your grammars? Ye'd better taen up spades and shools, Or knappin-hammers. A set o' dull conceited hashes, Confuse their brains in college classes! They gang in stirks, and come out asses, Plain truth to speak; An' syne they think to climb Parnassus By dint o' Greek! Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire, That's a' the learning I desire; Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire At pleugh or cart, My muse, tho' hamely in attire, May touch the heart. O for O for a spunk o' Allan's glee, If I can hit it! That would be lear eneugh for me, If I could get it. hae friends enow, Now, Sir, if ye Tho' real friends, I b'lieve are few, Yet, if your catalogue be fou, I'se no insist, But gif ye want ae friend that's true, I winna blaw about mysel; As ill I like my fauts to tell; But friends an' folks that wish me well, They sometimes roose me; Tho' I maun own, as monie still As far abuse me. There's ae wee faut they whyles lay to me, I like he lasses-Gude forgie me! For monie a plack they wheedle frae me, At dance or fair; May be some ither thing they gie me They weel can spare. But But Mauchline race, or Mauchline fair, I should be proud to meet you there; We'se gie ae night's discharge to care, If we forgather, An' hae a swap o' rhymin ware Wi' ane anither. The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter, An' kirsen him wi' reekin water; Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter, To cheer our heart; An' faith we'se be acquainted better Before we part. Awa selfish warly race, ye Wha think that havins, sense, an' grace, Ev'n love an' friendship, should give place To catch-the-plack! I dinna like to see your face, Nor hear your crack. But ye whom social pleasure charms, Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, Who hold your being on the terms, • Each aid the others,' Come to my bowl, come to my arms, My friends, my brothers! But, |