5
And yet as aft hae brak our vow,
In sorrow and vexation
Oh! lack-a-day.
Thy very breath, the fell semoom,
Which thro' the desert rages,
The cloud that leaves a land in gloom.
As dark as gothic ages
See, every canting wretch presume,
While creed on creed engages,
A' cryin' out, the pit's our doom,
What holy warfare wages,
Eventfu’ day.
Hail, bloated pests of beef and wine.
Morality observin’;
Wha preach humility to swine,
Yere vera humble servan',
The half o' ye deserve a line;
Ne'er frae the right road swervin',
Preserve your purity and dine,
Wi' hundreds roun' ye starvin',
Ilk ither day,
Condemn'd to hear presumption speak
Some naughty John’s oration;
What is’t that ye are gaun to seek,
The Devil or Salvation;
Detestin a’ wha winna cleek
Wi' his denomination:
The gates o’ grace he means to steek,
Nae parlance or sessation
A single day.
Certain worthies o' the guid toon seestu, once hit
on a very laudible scheme not to be bothered. They
refused assistance to individuals who were really dy-
ing for want: and immediately after, appeared a flam-
ing proclamation against Begging
