The Twa Herds; Or, The Holy Tulyie（2 / 2）

sic famous twa should disagree't,

and names, like “villain,” “hypocrite,”

ilk ither gi'en,

while new-light herds, wi' laughin spite,

say neither's liein!

a' ye wha tent the gospel fauld,

there's duncan deep, an' peebles shaul,

but chiefly thou, 'tle auld,

we trust in thee,

that thou wilt work them, het an' cauld,

till they agree.

consider, sirs, how we're beset;

there's scarce a new herd that we get,

but comes frae 'mang that cursed set,

i winna name;

i hope frae heav'n to see them yet

in fiery flame.

dalrymple has been lang our fae,

m'gill has wrought us meikle wae,

an' that curs'd rascal ca'd m'quhae,

and baith the shaws,

that aft hae made us black an' blae,

wi' vengefu' paws.

auld wodrow lang has hatch'd mischief;

we thought aye death wad bring relief;

but he has gotten, to our grief,

ane to succeed him,

a chield wha'll soundly buff our beef;

i meikle dread him.

and mony a ane that i could tell,

wha fain wad openly rebel,

forby turn-coats amang oursel',

there's smith for ane;

i doubt he's but a grey nick quill,

an' that ye'll fin'.

o! a' ye flocks o'er a, the hills,

by mosses, meadows, moors, and fells,

come, join your counsel and your skills

to cowe the lairds,

an' get the brutes the power themsel's

to choose their herds.

then orthodoxy yet may prance,

an' learning in a woody dance,

an' that fell cur ca'd common sense,

that bites sae sair,

be banished o'er the sea to france:

let him bark there.

then shaw's an' d'rymple's eloquence,

m'gill's close nervous excellence

m'quhae's pathetic manly sense,

an' guid m'math,

wi' smith, wha thro' the heart can glance,

may a' pack aff.