Epistle To James Tennant Of Glenconner（1 / 3）
epistle to james tennant of glenconner
auld comrade dear, and brither sinner,
how's a' the folk about glenconner?
how do you this blae eastlin wind,
that's like to blaw a body blind?
for me, my faculties are frozen,
my dearest member nearly dozen'd.
i've sent you here, by johnie simson,
twa sage philosophers to glimpse on;
smith, wi' his sympathetic feeling,
an' reid, to common sense appealing.
philosophers have fought and wrangled,
an' meikle greek an' latin mangled,
till wi' their logic-jargon tir'd,
and in the depth of science mir'd,
to common sense they now appeal,
what wives and wabsters see and feel.
but, hark ye, friend! i charge you strictly,
peruse them, an' return them quickly:
for now i'm grown sae cursed douce
i pray and ponder butt the house;
my shins, my lane, i there sit roastin',
perusing bunyan, brown, an' boston,
till by an' by, if i haud on,
i'll grunt a real gospel-groan:
already i begin to try it,
to cast my e'en up like a pyet,
when by the gun she tumbles o'er
flutt'ring an' gasping in her gore:
sae shortly you shall see me bright, ↑返回顶部↑
auld comrade dear, and brither sinner,
how's a' the folk about glenconner?
how do you this blae eastlin wind,
that's like to blaw a body blind?
for me, my faculties are frozen,
my dearest member nearly dozen'd.
i've sent you here, by johnie simson,
twa sage philosophers to glimpse on;
smith, wi' his sympathetic feeling,
an' reid, to common sense appealing.
philosophers have fought and wrangled,
an' meikle greek an' latin mangled,
till wi' their logic-jargon tir'd,
and in the depth of science mir'd,
to common sense they now appeal,
what wives and wabsters see and feel.
but, hark ye, friend! i charge you strictly,
peruse them, an' return them quickly:
for now i'm grown sae cursed douce
i pray and ponder butt the house;
my shins, my lane, i there sit roastin',
perusing bunyan, brown, an' boston,
till by an' by, if i haud on,
i'll grunt a real gospel-groan:
already i begin to try it,
to cast my e'en up like a pyet,
when by the gun she tumbles o'er
flutt'ring an' gasping in her gore:
sae shortly you shall see me bright, ↑返回顶部↑