Epistle To J. Lapraik, An Old Scottish B（3 / 5）

  but, by your leaves, my learned foes,
  ye're maybe wrang.
  what's a' your jargon o' your schools—
  your latin names for horns an' stools?
  if honest nature made you fools,
  what sairs your grammars?
  ye'd better taen up spades and shools,
  or knappin-hammers.
  a set o' dull, conceited hashes
  confuse their brains in college classes!
  they gang in stirks, and come out asses,
  plain truth to speak;
  an' syne they think to climb parnassus
  by dint o' greek!
  gie me ae spark o' nature's fire,
  that's a' the learning i desire;
  then tho' i drudge thro' dub an' mire
  at pleugh or cart,
  my muse, tho' hamely in attire,
  may touch the heart.
  o for a spunk o' allan's glee,
  or fergusson's the bauld an' slee,
  or bright lapraik's, my friend to be,
  if i can hit it!
  that would be lear eneugh for me,
  if i could get it.
  now, sir, if ye hae friends enow,
  tho' real friends, i b'lieve, are few;
  yet, if your catalogue be fu',
  i'se no insist: ↑返回顶部↑