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Had langer tack 12 o' flesh and blood,

And on mair pithy shanks they stood
Than Noah's line,

Wha still hae been a feckless brood
Wi' drinking wine.

The fuddlin' Bardies now-a-days

Rin maukin-mad 13 in Bacchus' praise,
And limp and stoiter thro' their lays

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11 share 12 lease 13 mad as a hare

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Whan eithly1 she can find the theme
Of aqua font.?

This is the name that doctors use
Their patients' noodles to confuse;
Wi' simples clad in terms abstruse,
They labour still,

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In kittle 3 words to gar you roose
Their want o' skill.

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But we'll hae nae sick clitter-clatter,
And briefly to expound the matter,
It shall be ca'd good Caller Water,
Than whilk,' I trow,

Few drogs in doctors' shops are better
For me or you.

-ROBERT FERGUSSON (1750-1774)

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42

GREEN GROW THE RASHES

- Green grow the rashes, O!

Green grow the rashes, O!

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
Are spent amang the lasses, O.

There's nought but care on ev'ry han',

In every hour that passes, 0:
What signifies the life o' man,

An 'twere na for the lasses, O?

The war'ly race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O;
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.

But gie me a cannie 9 hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O;
An' war'ly cares, an' war'ly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie,1o O.

For you sae douce," ye sneer at this;
Ye're nought but senseless asses, 0:
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, 0:
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.

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In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her ee,
Comes hame, perhaps to shew a braw 4
new gown,

35

Or deposite her sair-won 5 penny-fee,
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.

With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet,
An' each for other's weelfare kindly
spiers: 6

The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd
fleet;

Each tells the uncos that he sees or
hears..
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The parents, partial, eye their hopeful
years;

Anticipation forward points the view;

The mother, wi' her needle an' her
sheers,

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the
new;

The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.

45

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Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.8

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'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale." 81

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,
A wretch! a villain! lost to love and
truth!

That can with studied, sly, ensnaring art
Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting

youth?

85

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Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd?
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
Points to the parents fondling o'er their
child,

Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their dis-
traction wild?

90

But now the supper crowns their simple board,

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not ill taken 4 talks
bashful rest porridge

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