Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/30

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To mak a tour, and tak a whirl,
To learn bon-ton, and see the warl.
There, at Vienna or Versailles,
He rives his father's auld entails;
Or by Madrid he takes the rout,
To thrum guitars, and fight wi' nowt;
Or down Italian vista startles,
Wh—re-hunting groves o' myrtles.
Then bonses drumly German-water,
To mak himsel look fair and fatter,
And clear the consequential sorrows,
Love-gifts of carnival signoras.
For Britain's gude! for her destruction!
Wi' dissipation, fewd, and faction.

LUATH.
Hech man! dear sirs! is that the gate
They waste sae mony a braw estate?
Are we sae foughten and harrass'd
For gear to gang that gate at last?
O wade they stay aback frae courts,
And please themselves wi' country sports,
It wad for every ane be better,
The Laird, the Tenant, and the Cotter!
For thae frank, rantin, ramblin billies,
Fient haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows;
Except for breaking o' their timmer,
Or speaking lightly of their lummer,
Or shooting o' a hare or moorcock;
The ne'er a bit they're ill to poor fock.
But will ye tell me, Master Cæsar,
Sure great focks life's a life o' pleasure?
Nae cauld or hunger e'er can steer them,
The vera thought o't needna fear them.