The auld kirk-hammer strak' the bell
Some wee short hour ayont the twal,
Which rais'd us baith:
I took the way that pleas'd mysel',
And sae did Death.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: Buchan's Domestic Medicine.]

[Footnote 7: The grave-digger.]

* * * * *

XVI.

THE TWA HERDS:

OR,

THE HOLY TULZIE.

[The actors in this indecent drama were Moodie, minister of Ricartoun,
and Russell, helper to the minister of Kilmarnock: though apostles of
the "Old Light," they forgot their brotherhood in the vehemence of
controversy, and went, it is said, to blows. "This poem," says Burns,
"with a certain description of the clergy as well as laity, met with a
roar of applause."]

O a' ye pious godly flocks,
Weel fed on pastures orthodox,
Wha now will keep you frae the fox,
Or worrying tykes,
Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks,
About the dykes?

The twa best herds in a' the wast,
That e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast,
These five and twenty simmers past,
O! dool to tell,
Ha'e had a bitter black out-cast
Atween themsel.

O, Moodie, man, and wordy Russell,
How could you raise so vile a bustle,
Ye'll see how New-Light herds will whistle
And think it fine:
The Lord's cause ne'er got sic a twistle
Sin' I ha'e min'.

O, sirs! whae'er wad ha'e expeckit
Your duty ye wad sae negleckit,
Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit,
To wear the plaid,
But by the brutes themselves eleckit,
To be their guide.

What flock wi' Moodie's flock could rank,
Sae hale and hearty every shank,
Nae poison'd sour Arminian stank,
He let them taste,
Frae Calvin's well, ay clear they drank,--
O sic a feast!

The thummart, wil'-cat, brock, and tod,
Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood,
He smelt their ilka hole and road,
Baith out and in,
And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid,
And sell their skin.

What herd like Russell tell'd his tale,
His voice was heard thro' muir and dale,
He kend the Lord's sheep, ilka tail,
O'er a' the height,
And saw gin they were s