Epistle To John Rankine（1 / 2）

epistle to john rankine

enclosing some poems

o rough, rude, ready-witted rankine,

the wale o' cocks for fun an' drinkin!

there's mony godly folks are thinkin,

your dreams and tricks

will send you, korah-like, a-sinkin

straught to auld nick's.

ye hae saw mony cracks an' cants,

and in your wicked, drucken rants,

ye mak a devil o' the saunts,

an' fill them fou;

and then their failings, flaws, an' wants,

are a' seen thro'.

hypocrisy, in mercy spare it!

that holy robe, o dinna tear it!

spare't for their sakes, wha aften wear it—

the lads in black;

but your curst wit, when it comes near it,

rives't aff their back.

think, wicked sinner, wha ye're skaithing:

it's just the blue-gown badge an' claithing

o' saunts; tak that, ye lea'e them naething

to ken them by

frae ony unregenerate heathen,

like you or i.

i've sent you here some rhyming ware,

a' that i bargain'd for, an' mair;

sae, when ye hae an hour to spare,

i will expect,

yon sang ye'll sen't, wi' cannie care,

and no neglect.

tho' faith, sma' heart hae i to sing!

my muse dow scarcely spread her wing;

i've play'd mysel a bonie spring,

an' danc'd my fill!

i'd better gaen an' sair't the king,

at bunkjer's hill.

'twas ae night lately, in my fun,

i gaed a rovin' wi' the gun,