O A ye pious godly flocks,
Weel fed on pastures orthodox,
Wha now will keep you frae the fox,
Or worrying tykes?
Or wha will tent the waifs an crocks,
About the dykes?
The twa best herds in a the wast,
The eer gae gospel horn a blast
These five an twenty simmers past
Oh, dool to tell!
Hae had a bitter black out-cast
Atween themsel.
O, Moddie, 1 man, an wordy Russell, 2
How could you raise so vile a bustle;
Yell see how New-Light herds will whistle,
An think it fine!
The Ls cause neer gat sic a twistle,
Sin I hae min.
O, sirs! whaeer wad hae expeckit
Your duty ye wad sae negleckit,
Ye wha were neer by lairds respeckit
To wear the plaid;
But by the brutes themselves eleckit,
To be their guide.
What flock wi Moodies flock could rank?
Sae hale and hearty every shank!
Nae poisond soor Arminian stank
He let them taste;
Frae Calvins well, aye clear, drank,
O, sic a feast!
The thummart, willcat, brock, an tod,
Weel kend his voice thro a the wood,
He smelld their ilka hole an road,
Baith out an in;
An weel he likd to shed their bluid,
An sell their skin.
What herd like Russell telld his tale;
His voice was heard thro muir and dale,
He kennd the Ls sheep, ilka tail,
Owre a the height;
An saw gin they were sick or hale,
At the first sight.
He fine a mangy sheep could scrub,
Or nobly fling the gospel club,
And New-Light herds could nicely drub
Or pay their skin;
Could shake them oer the burning dub,
Or heave them in.
Sic twa-O! do I live to seet?
Sic famous twa should disagreet,
And names, like villain, hypocrite,
Ilk ither gien,
While New-Light herds, wi laughin spite,
Say neithers liein!
A ye wha tent the gospel fauld,
Theres Duncan 3 deep, an Peebles 4 shaul,
But chiefly thou, apostle Auld, 5
We trust in thee,
That thou wilt work them, het an cauld,
Till they agree.
Consider, sirs, how were beset;
Theres scarce a new herd that we get,
But comes frae mang that cursed set,
I winna name;
I hope frae heavn to see them yet
In fiery flame.
Dalrymple 6 has been lang our fae,
MGill 7 has wrought us meikle wae,
An that cursd rascal cad MQuhae, 8
And baith the Shaws, 9
That aft hae made us black an blae,
Wi vengefu paws.
Auld Wodrow 10 lang has hatchd mischief;
We thought aye death wad bring relief;
But he has gotten, to our grief,
Ane to succeed him,
A chield wha 11 soundly buff our beef;
I meikle dread him.
And mony a ane that I could tell,
Wha fain wad openly rebel,
Forby turn-coats amang oursel,
Theres Smith 12 for ane;
I doubt hes but a grey nick quill,
An that yell fin.
O! a ye flocks oer a, the hills,
By mosses, meadows, moors, and fells,
Come, join your counsel and your skills
To cowe the lairds,
An get the brutes the power themsels
To choose their herds.
Then Orthodoxy yet may prance,
An Learning in a woody dance,
An that fell cur cad Common Sense,
That bites sae sair,
Be banished oer the sea to France:
Let him bark there.
Then Shaws an Drymples eloquence,
MGills close nervous excellence
MQuhaes pathetic manly sense,
An guid MMath,
Wi Smith, wha thro the heart can glance,
May a pack aff.
Note 1. Rev. Mr. Moodie of Riccarton. [back]
Note 2. Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock. [back]
Note 3. Robert Duncan of Dundonald. [back]
Note 4. Rev. Wm. Peebles of Newton-on-Ayr. [back]
Note 5. Rev. Wm. Auld of Mauchline. [back]
Note 6. Rev. Dr. Dalrymple of Ayr. [back]
Note 7. Rev. Wm. MGill, colleague of Dr. Dalrymple. [back]
Note 8. Minister of St. Quivox. [back]
Note 9. Dr. Andrew Shaw of Craigie, and Dr. David Shaw of Coylton. [back]
Note 10. Dr. Peter Wodrow of Tarbolton. [back]
Note 11. Rev. John MMath, a young assistant and successor to Wodrow. [back]
Note 12. Rev. George Smith of Galston. [back]