I hold it, sir, my bounden duty
To warn you how that Master Tootie,
Alias, LairdM’Gaun,
Was here to hire yonlad away
‘Bout whom ye spakthe titherday,
An’ wadhae don’t affhan’;
But lest he learn the callantricks-
An’ faith I muckledoubt him-
Like scrapin out auldCrummie’s nicks,
An’ tellin lies about them;
As lievethen, I’d have then
Your clerkship he should sair,
If sae be ye may be
Not fitted otherwhere.
Altho’ I say’t, he’s glegenough,
An’ ’bouta house that’s rude an’ rough,
The boy might learn to swear;
Butthen, wi’ you, he’ll be saetaught,
An’ get sicfair example straught,
I hae naony fear.
Ye’ll catechise him, every quirk,
An’ shorehim weel wi’ hell;
An’ garhim follow to the kirk-
Aye when ye gangyoursel.
If ye then maunbe then
Fraehamethis comin’ Friday,
Then please, sir, to lea’e, sir,
The orders wi’your lady.
My word of honour I haegi’en,
In Paisley John’s, that night at e’en,
To meet the warld’s worm;
To try to get the twato gree,
An’ name the airles an’ the fee,
In legal mode an’ form:
I ken he weela snickcan draw,
When simple bodies let him:
An’if a Devil be at a’,
In faith he’s sure to gethim.
To phraseyou and praise you,.
Ye kenyour Laureat scorns:
The pray’r still you share still
Of grateful Minstrel Burns.