!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,

And get the brutes the power themsels,
To choose their herds.

Then Orthodoxy yet may prance,
And Learning in a woody dance,
And that fell cur ca'd Common Sense,
That bites sae sair,

Be banish'd o'er the sea to France;

M

Let him bark there.

Then Shaw's and D'rymple's eloquence,

-ll's close nervous excellence,

M'Q's pathetic manly sense,

Wi' S-th, wha thro' the heart can glance,
May a' pack aff.

THE INVENTORY:

In Answer to a Mandate sent by the Surveyor of the Windows, Carriages, &c. to each Farmer, ordering him to send a signed List of his Horses, Servants, Wheel-Carriages, &c. and whether he was a married Man or a Bachelor, and what Children he had.

SIR, as your mandate did request,
I send you here a faithfu' list,
O, gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith,
To which I'm clear to gie my aith.

Imprimis then, for carriage cattle,
I have four brutes o' gallant mettle,
As ever drew afore a pettle.

My Lan' afore's* a guide auld has been,
An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days been.
My Lan' ahin'st a weel gaun fillie,
That aft has borne me hame frae Killie,‡
An' your auld burro' mony a time,
In days when riding was nae crime
But ance whan in my wooing pride
I like a blockhead boost to ride,
The wilfu' creature sae I pat to,
(L-d pardon a' my sins an' that to!)
I play'd my fillie sic a shavie,
She's a' bedevil'd wi' the spavie.
My Furr ahin's a wordy beast,
As e'er in tug or tow was trac'd.
The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie,
A d-n'd red-wud Kilburnie blastie ;
Foreby a Cout, o' Cowt's the wale,
As ever ran afore a tail.

If he be spar'd to be a beast,
He'll draw me fifteen pun' at least.-
Wheel carriages I hae but few,
Three carts, an' twa are feckly new;
Ae auld wheelbarrow, mair for token,
Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken ;

The fore-horse on the left-hand in the plough.
The hindmost on the left-hand in the plough.
Kilmarnock.

§ The hindmost horse on the left-hand of the plough,

I made a poker o' the spin'le,

An'

my auld mother brunt the trin'le.For men, I've three mischievous boys, Run deils for rantin and for noise; A gaudsman ane, a thrasher tother, Wee Davock hauds the nowt in fother. I rule them as I ought, discreetly, An' aften labour them completely. An' ay on Sundays duly nightly, I on the questions targe them tightly; Till faith, wee Davock's turn'd sae gleg, Tho' scarcely langer than your leg, He'll screed you aff Effectual Calling, As fast as ony in the dwalling. I've nane in female servan' station, (L-d keep me ay frae a' temptation!) I hae nae wife; and that my bliss is, An' ye have laid nae tax on misses; An' then if kirk folks dinna clutch me, I ken the devils dare na touch me, Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented, Heav'n sent me ane mae than I wanted. My sonsie smirking dear-bought Bess, She stare's the daddy in her face, Enough of ought ye like but grace. But her, my bonnie sweet wee lady, I've paid enough for her already, An' gin ye tax her or her mither, B' the L-d! ye'se get them a' thegither.

And now, remember Mr A-k—n, Nae kind of licence out I'm takin

Frae this time forth, I do declare,
I'se ne'er ride horse nor hizzie mair ;
Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle,
Ere I sae dear pay
for a saddle;

My travel a' on foot I'll shank it.
I've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit.-
The Kirk and you may tak you that,
It puts but little in your pat:

Sae dinna put me in

your buke,

Nor for my ten white shillings luke.

This list wi' my ain hand I wrote it,
Day and date as under notit,

Then know all ye whom it concerns,

Subscripsi huic,

Mossgiel, Feb. 22d, 1786.

ROBERT BURNS,

THE

HENPECK'D HUSBAND.

CURS'D be the man the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife,
Who has no will but by her high permission!
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;-
Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell.
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart:
I'd charm her with the magic of a switch,
I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b-h,

EPITAPH,

ON A HENPECK'D COUNTRY SQUIRE.

As father Adam first was fool'd,.
A case that's still too common,
Here lies a man a woman rul'd,
The devil rul'd the woman.

EPIGRAM

ON SAID OCCASION.

O DEATH, had'st thou but spar'd his life,
Whom we this day lament !
We freely wad exchang'd the wife,
And a' been weel content.

Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff,
The swap we yet will do't;
Tak thou the Carlin's carcase aff,
Thou'se get the saul o' boot.

ANOTHER.

ONE Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell,
When deprived of her husband she loved so well,
In respect for the love an' affection he'd shewn her,
She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder,