Second Epistle to Davie（1 / 2）
second epistle to davie
a brother poet
auld neibour,
i'm three times doubly o'er your debtor,
for your auld-farrant, frien'ly letter;
tho' i maun say't i doubt ye flatter,
ye speak sae fair;
for my puir, silly, rhymin clatter
some less maun sair.
hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle,
lang may your elbuck jink diddle,
to cheer you thro' the weary widdle
o' war'ly cares;
till barins' barins kindly cuddle
your auld grey hairs.
but davie, lad, i'm red ye're glaikit;
i'm tauld the muse ye hae negleckit;
an, gif it's sae, ye sud by lickit
until ye fyke;
sic haun's as you sud ne'er be faikit,
be hain't wha like.
for me, i'm on parnassus' brink,
rivin the words to gar them clink;
whiles dazed wi' love, whiles dazed wi' drink,
wi' jads or masons;
an' whiles, but aye owre late, i think
braw sober lessons.
of a' the thoughtless sons o' man,
commen' to me the bardie clan;
except it be some idle plan ↑返回顶部↑
a brother poet
auld neibour,
i'm three times doubly o'er your debtor,
for your auld-farrant, frien'ly letter;
tho' i maun say't i doubt ye flatter,
ye speak sae fair;
for my puir, silly, rhymin clatter
some less maun sair.
hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle,
lang may your elbuck jink diddle,
to cheer you thro' the weary widdle
o' war'ly cares;
till barins' barins kindly cuddle
your auld grey hairs.
but davie, lad, i'm red ye're glaikit;
i'm tauld the muse ye hae negleckit;
an, gif it's sae, ye sud by lickit
until ye fyke;
sic haun's as you sud ne'er be faikit,
be hain't wha like.
for me, i'm on parnassus' brink,
rivin the words to gar them clink;
whiles dazed wi' love, whiles dazed wi' drink,
wi' jads or masons;
an' whiles, but aye owre late, i think
braw sober lessons.
of a' the thoughtless sons o' man,
commen' to me the bardie clan;
except it be some idle plan ↑返回顶部↑