The Complete Works. Robert Burns

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      XIV.

      Muirland George, Muirland George,

      Whom the Lord made a scourge,

      To claw common sense for her sins;

      If ill manners were wit,

      There’s no mortal so fit,

      To confound the poor doctor at ance,

      Muirland George,

      To confound the poor doctor at ance.

      XV.

      Cessnockside, Cessnockside,

      Wi’ your turkey-cock pride,

      O’ manhood but sma’ is your share;

      Ye’ve the figure, it’s true,

      Even our faes maun allow,

      And your friends daurna say ye hae mair,

      Cessnockside,

      And your friends daurna say ye hae mair.

      XVI.

      Daddie Auld, Daddie Auld,

      There’s a tod i’ the fauld

      A tod meikle waur than the clerk;[93]

      Tho’ ye downa do skaith,

      Ye’ll be in at the death,

      And if ye canna bite ye can bark,

      Daddie Auld,

      And if ye canna bite ye can bark.

      XVII.

      Poet Burns, Poet Burns,

      Wi’ your priest-skelping turns,

      Why desert ye your auld native shire?

      Tho’ your Muse is a gipsy,

      Yet were she even tipsy,

      She could ca’ us nae waur than we are,

      Poet Burns,

      She could ca’ us nae waur than we are.

      POSTSCRIPT

      Afton’s Laird, Afton’s Laird,

      When your pen can be spar’d,

      A copy o’ this I bequeath,

      On the same sicker score

      I mentioned before,

      To that trusty auld worthy Clackleith,

      Afton’s Laird,

      To that trusty auld worthy Clackleith.

      CXI. PEG NICHOLSON

      [These hasty verses are to be found in a letter addressed to Nicol, of the High School of Edinburgh, by the poet, giving him on account of the unlooked-for death of his mare, Peg Nicholson, the successor of Jenny Geddes. She had suffered both in the employ of the joyous priest and the thoughtless poet. She acquired her name from that frantic virago who attempted to murder George the Third.]

      CXII. ON CAPTAIN MATTHEW HENDERSON, A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS HONOURS IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD

      “Should the poor be flattered?”

      But now his radiant course is run,

      [Captain Matthew Henderson, a gentleman of very agreeable manners and great propriety of character, usually lived in Edinburgh, dined constantly at Fortune’s Tavern, and was a member of the Capillaire Club, which was composed of all who desired to be thought witty or joyous: he died in 1789: Burns, in a note to the Poem, says, “I loved the man much, and have not flattered his memory.” Henderson seems indeed to have been universally liked. “In our travelling party,” says Sir James Campbell, of Ardkinglass, “was Matthew Henderson, then (1759) and afterwards well known and much esteemed in the town of Edinburgh; at that time an officer in the twenty-fifth regiment of foot, and like myself on his way to join the army; and I may say with truth, that in the course of a long life I have never known a more estimable character, than Matthew Henderson.” Memoirs of Campbell, of Ardkinglass, p. 17.]