Nae heathen name shall I prefix,
Auld Reekiedings them a’ to sticks,
For rhyme-inspiring lasses.
Jove’s tunefu’ dochters three times three
Made Homer deep their debtor;
But, gienthe bodyhalf ane’e,
Nine Ferriers waddone better!
Last day my mindwas in a bog,
Down George’s Street I stoited;
A creeping cauldprosaic fog
My very sense doited.
Do what I doughtto sether free,
My saullay in the mire;
Ye turned a neuk-I sawyour e’e-
She took the wing like fire!
The mournfu’ sang I here enclose,
In gratitude I send you,
And pray, in rhyme as weelas prose,
A’gudethings may attend you!