The Authors Earnest Cry And Prayer
书迷正在阅读：兔女郎娶老婆、人间录、·缠、几时熟、短篇炸裂故事～、美人账、网游之天下无双之【肏逼无双】、穿书后我和反派在一起了、猎郎、冥婚少女：鬼夫大人我怕黑
the author's ear cry and prayer to the right honourable and honourable scotch representatives in the house of ons. dearest of distillation! last a— —how art thou lost!— parody on milton. ye irish lords, ye knights an' squires, resent our brughs an' shires, an' doucely manage our affairs in parliament, to you a simple poet's pray'rs are humbly sent. alas! my roupit muse is hearse! your honours' hearts wi' grief 'tierce, to see her sittin on her arse low i' the dust, and scriehout prosaic verse, an like to brust! tell them wha hae the chief dire, scotland an' me's i affli, e'er sin' they laid that curst restri on aqua-vitae; an' rouse them up t vi, an' move their pity. stand forth an' tell yon premier youth the ho, open, ruth: tell him o' mine an' scotland's drouth, his servants humble: the muckle deevil blaw you south if ye dissemble! does ony great man glun' gloom? speak out, an' never fash your thumb! let posts an' pensions sink or soom wi' them wha grant them; if holy they a e, far better want them. in gath'rin votes you were na slack; now stand as tightly by your tack: ne'er claw y, an' fidge your back, an' hum an' haw; but raise your arm, an' tell your crack before them a'. paint scotland greetin owre her thrissle; her mut stowp as toom's a whissle; an' damn'd excisemen in a bussle, seizin a stell, triumphant crushin't like a mussel, or limpet shell! then, oher hand present her— a blackguard smuggler right behint her, an' cheek-for-chow, a chuffie vintner colleaguing join, pig her pouch as bare as winter of a' kind . is there, that bears the name o' scot, but feels his heart's bluid rising hot, to see his poor auld mither's pot thus dung in staves, an' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat by gallows knaves? alas! i'm but a nameless wight, trode i' the mire out o' sight? but could i like montgomeries fight, ab like boswell, there's some sark-necks i wad draw tight, an' tie some hose well. god bless your honours! ye see't— the kind, auld tie carli, an' warmly to your feet, an' gar them hear it, ahem atriot-heat ye winna bear it? some o' you nicely ken the laws, to round the period an' pause, an' with rhetoric clause on clause to mak harangues; then echo thro' saint stephen's wa's auld scotland's wrangs. dempster, a true blue scot i'se warran'; thee, aith-detesting, chaste kilkerran; an' that glib-gabbit highland baron, the laird o' graham; an' ane, a chap that's damn'd aulfarran', dundas his name: erskine, a spunkie norland billie; true campbells, frederid ilay; an' livistohe bauld sir willie; an' mony ithers, whom auld demosthenes or tully might own for brithers. see sh, my wat stented, if poets e'er are represented; i ken if that your sword were wanted, ye'd lend a hand; but when there's ought to say a it, ye're at a stand. arouse, my boys! exert your mettle, to get auld scotland back her kettle; or faith! i'll wad my new pleugh-pettle, ye'll see't or lang, she'll teach you, wi' a reekin whittle, anither sang. this while she's been in kous mood, her lost militia fir'd her bluid; (deil na they never mair do guid, play'd her that pliskie!) an' now she's like to rin red-wud about her whisky. an' lord! if ahey pit her till't, her tartaicoat she'll kilt, an'durk an' pistol at her belt, she'll tak the streets, an' rin her whittle to the hilt, i' the first she meets! fod sake, sirs! then speak her fair, an' straik her ie wi' the hair, an' to the muckle house repair, wi' instant speed, an' strive, wi' a' your wit an' lear, to get remead. yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, charlie fox, may taunt you wi' his jeers and mocks; but gie him't het, my hearty cocks! e'en cowe the cadie! an' send him to his dig box an' sportin' lady. tell you guid bluid o' auld boock's, i'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks, an' drink his health in auld innock's imes a-week, if he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks, was kindly seek. could he some utation broach, i'll pledge my aith in guid braid scotch, he needheir foul reproach nor erudition, yon mixtie-maxtie, queer hotch-potch, the coalition. auld scotland has a raucle tongue; she's just a devil wi' a rung; an' if she promise auld or young to tak their part, tho' by the neck she should be strung, she'll . and now, ye chosen five-and-forty, may still you mither's heart support ye; then, tho'a minister grow dorty, an' kick your place, ye'll snap yingers, poor ay, before his face. god bless your honours, a' your days, wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise, in spite o' a' the thievish kaes, that haunt st. jamie's! your humble poet sings an' prays, while rab his name is. postscript let half-starv'd slaves in warmer skies see future wines, rich-clust'ring, rise; their lot auld scotland ne're envies, but, blythe and frisky, she eyes her freeborn, martial boys tak aff their whisky. what tho' their phoebus kinder warms, while fragrance blooms ay charms, wheches range, in famish'd swarms, the sted groves; or, hounded forth, dishonour arms in hungry droves! their gun's a burden on their shouther; they downa bide the stink o' powther; their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither to stan' or rin, till skelp—a shot—they're aff, a'throw'ther, to save their skin. but bring a san frae his hill, clap in his cheek a highland gill, say, such is royal gee's will, an' there's the foe! he has hought but how to kill twa at a blow. nae cauld, faied doubtings tease him; death es, wi' fearless eye he sees him; wi'bluidy hand a wele gies him; an' when he fa's, his latest draught o' breathin lea'es him in faint huzzas. sages their solemn een may steek, an' raise a philosophic reek, an' physically causes seek, in clime an' season; but tell me whisky's name in greek i'll tell the reason. scotland, my auld, respected mither! tho' whiles ye moistify your leather, till, whare ye sit on craps o' heather, ye tine your dam; freedom an' whisky gang thegither! take aff your dram!