FOR lords or kings I dinna mourn,
Een let them die-for that theyre born:
But oh! prodigious to reflec!
A Towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck!
O Eighty-eight, in thy sma space,
What dire events hae taken place!
Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us!
In what a pickle thou has left us!
The Spanish empires tint a head,
And my auld teethless, Bawties dead:
The tulyies teugh tween Pitt and Fox,
And tween our Maggies twa wee cocks;
The tane is game, a bluidy devil,
But to the hen-birds unco civil;
The tithers something dour o treadin,
But better stuff neer clawd a middin.
Ye ministers, come mount the poupit,
An cry till ye be hearse an roupit,
For Eighty-eight, he wished you weel,
An gied ye a baith gear an meal;
Een monc a plack, and mony a peck,
Ye ken yoursels, for little feck!
Ye bonie lasses, dight your een,
For some o you hae tint a frien;
In Eighty-eight, ye ken, was taen,
What yell neer hae to gie again.
Observe the very nowt an sheep,
How dowff an daviely they creep;
Nay, even the yirth itsel does cry,
For Enburgh wells are grutten dry.
O Eighty-nine, thous but a bairn,
An no owre auld, I hope, to learn!
Thou beardless boy, I pray tak care,
Thou now hast got thy Daddys chair;
Nae handcuffd, mizld, hap-shackld Regent,
But, like himsel, a full free agent,
Be sure ye follow out the plan
Nae waur than he did, honest man!
As muckle better as you can.January, 1, 1789.
