Epistle To Colonel De Peyster（1 / 2）
epistle to colonel de peyster
my honor'd colonel, deep i feel
your interest in the poet's weal;
ah! now sma' heart hae i to speel
the steep parnassus,
surrounded thus by bolus pill,
and potion glasses.
o what a canty world were it,
would pain and care and sickness spare it;
and fortune favour worth and merit
as they deserve;
and aye rowth o' roast-beef and claret,
syne, wha wad starve?
dame life, tho' fiction out may trick her,
and in paste gems and frippery deck her;
oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker
i've found her still,
aye wavering like the willow-wicker,
'tween good and ill.
then that curst carmagnole, auld satan,
watches like baudrons by a ratton
our sinfu' saul to get a claut on,
wi'felon ire;
syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on,
he's aff like fire.
ah nick! ah nick! it is na fair,
first showing us the tempting ware,
bright wines, and bonie lasses rare,
to put us daft
syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare ↑返回顶部↑
my honor'd colonel, deep i feel
your interest in the poet's weal;
ah! now sma' heart hae i to speel
the steep parnassus,
surrounded thus by bolus pill,
and potion glasses.
o what a canty world were it,
would pain and care and sickness spare it;
and fortune favour worth and merit
as they deserve;
and aye rowth o' roast-beef and claret,
syne, wha wad starve?
dame life, tho' fiction out may trick her,
and in paste gems and frippery deck her;
oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker
i've found her still,
aye wavering like the willow-wicker,
'tween good and ill.
then that curst carmagnole, auld satan,
watches like baudrons by a ratton
our sinfu' saul to get a claut on,
wi'felon ire;
syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on,
he's aff like fire.
ah nick! ah nick! it is na fair,
first showing us the tempting ware,
bright wines, and bonie lasses rare,
to put us daft
syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare ↑返回顶部↑