HA! whare ye gaun, ye crowlan ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strut rarely
Owre gawze and lace;
Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but sparely,
On sic a place.
Ye ugly, creepan, blastet wonner,
Detested, shunn'd, by saunt an' sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a Lady!
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner
On some poor body.
Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle;
There you may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle,
Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle,
Your thick plantations.
Now haud you there, ye 're out o' sight,
Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight,
Na faith ye yet! ye'll no be right,
Till ye 've got on it,
The vera tapmost, towrin height
O' Miss's bonnet.
My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an' gray as onie grozet:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I'd gie ye sic a hearty dose o't,
Wad dress your droddum!
I wad na been surpriz'd to spy
You on an auld wife's flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On 's wylecoat;
But Miss's fine Lunardi, fye!
How daur ye do 't.?
O Jenny dinna toss your head,
An' set your beauties a' abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie 's makin!
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!
O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
And ev'n Devotion!