I HOLD it, sir, my bounden duty
To warn you how that Master Tootie,
Alias, Laird MGaun,
Was here to hire yon lad away
Bout whom ye spak the tither day,
An wad hae dont aff han;
But lest he learn the callan tricks
An faith I muckle doubt him
Like scrapin out auld Crummies nicks,
An tellin lies about them;
As lieve then, Id have then
Your clerkship he should sair,
If sae be ye may be
Not fitted otherwhere.
Altho I sayt, hes gleg enough,
An bout a house thats rude an rough,
The boy might learn to swear;
But then, wi you, hell be sae taught,
An get sic fair example straught,
I hae na ony fear.
Yell catechise him, every quirk,
An shore him weel wi hell;
An gar him follow to the kirk
Aye when ye gang yoursel.
If ye then maun be then
Frae hame this comin Friday,
Then please, sir, to leae, sir,
The orders wi your lady.
My word of honour I hae gien,
In Paisley Johns, that night at een,
To meet the warlds worm;
To try to get the twa to gree,
An name the airles an the fee,
In legal mode an form:
I ken he weel a snick can draw,
When simple bodies let him:
An if a Devil be at a,
In faith hes sure to get him.
To phrase you and praise you,.
Ye ken your Laureat scorns:
The prayr still you share still
Of grateful MINSTREL BURNS.