Sae when e'er company came in,
And were upo' a merry pin,
I flade awa' wi' little din,

And muckle mense *.
>

Left confcience judge †, it was a' ane
To Lucky Spence.

My bennison come on good doers,

Who spend their cafh on bawds and whores;
May they ne'er want the wale of cures
For a fair fnout;

Foul fa' the quacks wha that fire smoors ‡,
And puts nae out.

My malifon light ilka day

On them that drink and dinna pay,

But tak' a fnack and run away;

May

* Much good-breeding.

It was her ufual way of vindicating herself, to tell ye, "When company came to her houfe, could he be fo uncivil 86 as to turn them out?—If they did any bad thing," said she, "between God and their confcience be it."

Such quacks as bind up the external fymptoms of the dif cafe, and drive it inward to the ftrong holds, whence it is not fo eafily expelled.

May 't be their hap

Never to want a gonorrhea,
Or rotten clap.

Lafs, gi'e us in anither gill,

A mutchken, jo, let 's tak' our fill; Let Death fyne registrate his bill Whan I want fenfe,

I'll flip away with better will,

Quo' Lucky Spence.

1728.

THE LAST SPEECH OF A WRETCHED MISER.

O DOOL! and am I forc'd to die,
And nae mair my dear filler fee,
That glanc'd fae fweetly in my e'e!
It breaks my heart:

My goud! my bands! alackanie!
That we fhould part.

For you I labour'd night and day,
For you I did friends betray,

my

For you on ftinking caff I lay,
And blankets thin ;

And for your fake fed mony a flea
Upon my skin.

Like Tantalus, I lang have stood
Chin-deep into a filler flood,

Yet ne'er was able for my blood,
But pain and ftrife,

To ware ae drap on claiths or food,
To cherish life.

Or

Or like the wiffen'd beardless wights,
Wha herd the wives of eastern knights,
Yet ne'er enjoy the faft delights
Of laffes bony;

Thus did I watch lang days and nights
My lovely money.

Altho' my annual rents could feed
Thrice forty fouk that stood in need,
I grudg'd myself my daily bread;
And if frae hame,

My pouch produc'd an ingan head,
To please my wame.

To keep you cofie in a hoord,
This hunger I with ease endur'd;
And never dought a doit afford
To ane of fkill,

Wha for a doller might have cur'd
Me of this ill.

I never wore my claiths with brushing,
Nor wrung away my farks with washing;
Nor ever fat in taverns dafhing

Away my coin,

To find out wit or mirth by clafhing

O'er dearthfu' wine.

VOL. I.

X

Abiet

Abiet my pow was bald and bare,
I wore nae frizzl❜d limmer's hair,
Which taks of flour to keep it fair,
Frae reesting free,

As meikle as wad dine, and mair,
The like of me.

Nor kept I fervants, tales to tell,
But toom'd my coodies a' myfell;
To hane in candle I had a spell

Baith cheap and bright,

A fish-head, when it 'gins to smell,
Gives curious light.

What reafon can I shaw, quo' ye,
To fave and starve, to cheat and lie,
To live a beggar, and to die

Sae rich in coin?

That's mair than can be gi'en by me,
Tho' Belzie join.

Some faid my looks were groff and fowr,
Fretfu', drumbly, dull, and dowr:

I own it was na in my pow'r,

My fears to ding;

Wherefore I never could endure

To laugh or fing.

I ever