FOR Lords or Kings I dinna mourn, E'en let them die-for that they're born: But oh! prodigious to reflec'! A Towmont, Sirs, is gane to wreck! O Eighty-eight, in thy sma' space What dire events hae taken place! Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us!

Dr. B's very Looks.

THAT there is falsehood in his looks
I must and will deny :
They say their master is a knave-
And sure they do not lie.

On a Schoolmaster in Cleish Parish, Fifeshire.

HERE lie Willie M-hie's banes,
O Satan, when ye tak him,
Gie him the schulin of your weans;
For clever Deils he'll mak em!

The Spanish empire 's tint a head, An' my auld teethless Bawtie's dead; The tulzie 's teugh 'tween Pitt an' Fox, And 'tween our Maggie's twa wee cocks; The tane is game, a bluidie devil, But to the hen-birds unco civil; The tither's something dour o' treadin, But better stuff ne'er claw'd a midden

Ye ministers, come mount the poupet, An' cry till ye be haerse an' roupit, For Eighty-eight, he wish'd you weel, An' gied you a' baith gear an' meal; E'en mony a plack, and mony a peck, Ye ken yoursels, for little feck!

Ye bonnie lasses, dight your een,

In Eighty-eight, ye ken, was ta'en What ye'll ne'er hae to gie again.

Observe the very nowt an' sheep, How dowf and dowie now they creep; Nay, even the yirth itsel does cry, For E'nbrugh wells are grutten dry.

An' no o'er auld, I hope, to learn!
O Eighty-nine, thou's but a bairn,
Thou beardless boy, I pray tak care,
Thou now has got thy Daddy's chair.

prize,

sighs;