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an's savage, ruthless deeds.
vene, wide spreads the poor
ace: ole nane fame,
bosom en e excels
their summer tolls flowers' delicious are in massive waxen
hat tyrant o'er the west
reeling, scatter wile.
gossamour waves wanton in
poor, simplicity's reward ain the ancient burgh of day ir'd, or haply pressd wilcare
lishimaclaver might been said, 8, if sprites had blood to shed,
but all before their sight, ear'd in order bright: ring stream they featly dancer port on their various dresses els db Perso
New Brig was buskit in a braw new coat,
chanc'd his new come neebor took his e'e,
Tho'faith that day, I doubt ye'll never see; There'll be, if that date come, I'll wad a boddle, Some fewer whigmeleeries in your noddle.
NEW BRIG. Auld Vandal, ye but show your
* A noted ford just above the Auld Brig.
And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn,
Fine Architecture ! trowth, I needs must say't o't! The L-d be thankit that we'te tint the gate o't! Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices, Hanging with threat' ning jut, like precipices; O'er-arching, mouldy, gloom-inspiring coves, Supporting roofs fantastic, stony groves;
* The banks of Garpal Water is one of the few places in the west of Scotland, where those fancyscaring beings, known by the name of Ghaists, still continue pertinaciously to inhabit.
† The source of the river Ayr.
Windows and doors, in nameless sculpture drest,
Oye, my dear-remember'd, ancient yealings, Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings! Ye worthy Proveses, an' mony a Bailie, Wha in the paths of righteousuess did toil ay; Ye dainty Deacons, and ye douce Conveeners, To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners ; Ye godly Councils wha hae bless'd this town; Ye godly Brethren of the sacred gown, Wha meekly gae your hurdies to the smiters; And (what would now be strange) ye godly Writers: A' ye douce folk I've born aboon the broo, Were ye but here, what would ye say or do? How would your spirits groan in deep vexation, To see each melancholy alteration; And agonizing, curse the time and place When ye begat the base, degen’rate race! Nae langer Rev'rend Men, their country's glory, In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid story;
Nae langer thrifty Citizens, an' douce,
Brigs and Harbours !
Now haud you there! for faith ye've said enough, And muckle
inair than ye can make to through, As for your Priesthood, I shall say but little, Corbies and Clergy are a shot right kittle; But under favor of your langer beard, Abuse o' magistrates might weel be spar'd: To liken them to your auld warld squad, I must needs say, comparisons are odd. In Ayr, Wag-wits nae mair can hae a handle To mouth a Citizen,' a term o' scandal : Nae mair the Council waddles down the street, In all the pomp of ignorant conceit; Men wha grew wise priggin ower hops an' raisins, Or gather'a lib'ral views in Bonds and Seisins. If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp, Had shor'd them with a glimmer of his lamp, And would to Common-sense, for once betray'd
them, Plain, dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them.
What farther clishmaclaver might been said, What bloody wars, if sprites had blood to shed, No man can tell ; but all before their sight, A fairy train appear'd in order bright: Adown the glittering stream they featly danced: Bright to the moon their various dresses glan,