epistle to dr. blacklock

ellisland, 21st oct., 1789.

wow, but your letter made me vauntie!

and are ye hale, and weel and cantie?

i ken'd it still, your wee bit jauntie

wad bring ye to:

lord send you aye as weel's i want ye!

and then ye'll do.

the ill-thief blaw the heron south!

and never drink be near his drouth!

he tauld myself by word o' mouth,

he'd tak my letter;

i lippen'd to the chiel in trouth,

and bade nae better.

but aiblins, honest master heron

had, at the time, some dainty fair one

to ware this theologic care on,

and holy study;

and tired o' sauls to waste his lear on,

e'en tried the body.

but what d'ye think, my trusty fere,

i'm turned a gauger—peace be here!

parnassian queans, i fear, i fear,

ye'll now disdain me!

and then my fifty pounds a year

will little gain me.

ye glaikit, gleesome, dainty damies,

wha, by castalia's wimplin streamies,

lowp, sing, and lave your pretty limbies,

ye ken, ye ken,

that strang necessity supreme is

'mang sons o' men.