On the Late Captain Grose’s Peregrinations thro’ Scotland, collecting the Antiquities of that Kingdom

HEAR, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johny Groats!-----
If there 's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede you tent it:
A chield 's amang you, taking notes,
And, faith, he'll prent it.

If in your bounds ye chance to light
Upon a fine, fat fodgel wight,
O' stature short, but genius bright,
That 's he, mark weel--------
And wow! he has an unco slight
O' cauk and keel.

By some auld, houlet-haunted, biggin,
Or kirk deserted by its riggin,
It 's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in
Some eldritch part,
Wi' deils, they say, Lord safe 's! colleaguin
At some black art.-----

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chamer,
Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamor,
And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar,
Warlocks and witches;
Ye 'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
Ye midnight bitches.

It 's tauld he was a sodger bred,
And ane wad rather fa'n than fled;
But now he's quat the spurtle-blade,
And dog-skin wallet,
And taen the----Antiquarian trade,
I think they call it.

He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets:
Rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets,
Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets,
A towmont gude;
And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets,
Before the Flood.

Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder;
Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool and fender;
That which distinguished the gender
O' Balaam's ass;
A broomstick o' the witch of Endor,
Weel shod wi' brass.

Forbye, he'll shape you aff fu' gleg
The cut of Adam's philibeg;
The knife that nickit Abel's craig
He'll prove you fully,
It was a faulding jocteleg,
Or lang-kail gullie.-----

But wad ye see him in his glee,
For meikle glee and fun has he,
Then set him down, and twa or three
Gude fellows wi' him;
And port, O port! shine thou a wee,
And THEN ye'll see him!

Now, by the Powers o' Verse and Prose!
Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose!-----
Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,
They sair misca' thee;
I'd take the rascal by the nose,
Wad say, Shame fa' thee.