Sometimes they catch a gentle gizz,

Alake the day!

And singe, wi' hair-devouring bizz,
Its curls away.

Shou'd th' owner patiently keek round,
To view the nature of his wound,
Dead pussie, dragled thro' the pond,
Takes him a lounder,

Which lays his honour on the ground
As flat's a flounder.

The Muse maun also now implore
Auld wives to steek ilk hole and bore;
If baudrins slip but to the door,

I fear, I fear,

She'll no lang shank upon all-four
This time o' year.1

Next day each hero tells his news
O' crackit crowns and broken brows,
And deeds that here forbid the Muse
Her theme to swell,
Or time mair precious [to] abuse
Their crimes to tell.

She'll rather to the fields resort,

Whare music gars the day seem short,
Whare doggies play, and lambies sport
On gowany braes,

Whare peerless Fancy hads her court,
And tunes her lays.

1 See Additional Notes and Illustrations, B.

CALLER OYSTERS.

Happy the man who, free from care and strife,
In silken or in leathern purse, retains

A splendid shilling. He nor hears with pain
New oysters cry'd, nor sighs for chearful ale.

[JOHN] PHILLIPS;

(The exordium of the 'Splendid Shilling.')

OF a' the waters that can hobble

A fishin' yole or salmon coble,

And can reward the fisher's trouble,
Or south or north,

There's nane sae spacious and sae noble
As Firth o' Forth.

In her the skate and codlin sail,
The eil fou souple wags her tail,
Wi' herrin, flouk, and makarel,

And whitens dainty;

Their spindle-shanks the labsters trail
Wi' partans plenty.

Auld Reikie's sons blyth faces wear;
September's merry month is near,
That brings in Neptune's caller cheer,
New oysters fresh ;

The halesomest and nicest gear

Of fish or flesh.

O! then we needna gi'e a plack
For dand'ring mountebank or quack,
Wha o' their drogs sae bauldly crack,

And spread sic notions,

As

gar

their feckless patients tak

Their stinkin potions.

Come prie, frail man! for gin thou art sick,
The oyster is a rare cathartic

As ever doctor patient gart lick
To cure his ails;

Whether you hae the head or heart ake,
It ay prevails.

Ye tiplers, open a' your poses,
Ye wha are faush'd wi' plouky noses,
Fling owr your craig sufficient doses,
You'll thole a hunder,

To fleg awa your simmer roses,

And naithing under.

Whan big as burns the gutters rin,
Gin ye hae catcht a droukit skin,
To Luckie Middlemist's1 loup in,
And sit fu' snug

O'er oysters and a dram o' gin,
Or haddock lug.

When auld Saunt Giles, at aught o'clock,
Gars merchant louns their shopies lock,
There we adjourn wi' hearty fock

To birle our bodles,

And get wharewi' to crack our joke,

And clear our noddles.

Whan Phoebus did his windocks steek,
How aften at that ingle cheek

1 A famous Oyster Tavern in our Poet's time,situated in the Cowgate, where it is now (1851) crossed by the South Bridge, and which has more recently obtained a new lease of immortality (!) as the scene of some of the most graphic incidents in the Miller of Deanhaugh,' by the manygifted Ballantyne.

Did I my frosty fingers beek,

And taste gude fare:

I trow there was nae hame to seek

Whan steghin there.

While glakit fools, o'er rife o' cash,
Pamper their weyms wi' fousom trash,
I think a chiel may gayly pass,

He's no ill boden

That gusts his gabb wi' oyster sauce,
And hen weel soden.

At Musselbrough, and eke Newheven,1
The fisher wives will get top livin,
When lads gang out on Sunday's even
To treat their joes,

And tak' o' fat pandours a prieven,

Or mussel brose:

Then sometimes ere they flit their doup,
They'll ablins a' their siller coup

For liquor clear frae cutty stoup,

To weet their wizen,

And swallow o'er a dainty soup,

For fear they gizzen.

A' ye wha canna stand sae sicker,

Whan twice you've toom'd the big-ars'd bicker, Mix caller oysters wi' your liquor,

And I'm your debtor,

If greedy priest or drouthy vicar

Will thole it better.

1 Two well-known country towns not far from Edinburgh.