THE HOLY FAIR. I. UPON a simmer Sunday morn, When Nature's face is fair, I walked forth to view the corn, An' snuff the callor air. The rising sun, our GALSTON Muirs, Wi' glorious light was glintan; The hares were hirplan down the furrs, The lav'rocks they were chantan Fu' sweet that day. II. As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad, To see a scene sae gay, Three hizzies, early at the road, Cam skelpan up the way. Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black, But ane wi' lyart lining; The third, that gaed a wee a-back, Was in the fashion shining Fu' gay that day. III. The twa appear'd like sisters twin, In feature, form an claes; Their visage wither'd, lang an' thin, An' sour as ony slaes: The third cam up, hap-step-an'-loup, As light as ony lambie, An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, As soon as e'er she saw me, Fu' kind that day. IV. Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, "Sweet lass, " I think ye seem to ken me; "I'm sure I've seen that bonie face, " But yet I canna name ye. " Quo' she, an' laughan as she spak, An' taks me by the han's, " Ye, for my sake, hae gien the feck "Of a' the ten comman's A screed some day." V. "My name is FUN — your cronie dear, " The nearest friend ye hae; "An' this is SUPERSTITION here, " An' that's HYPOCRISY. "I'm gaun to ********* holy fair, " To spend an hour in daffin: "Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair, " We will get famous laughin At them this day. " VI. Quoth I, "With a' my heart, I'll do't; " I'll get my sunday's sark on, "An' meet you on the holy spot; " Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin! " Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time, An' soon I made me ready; For roads were clad, frae side to side, Wi' monie a wearie body, In droves that day. VII. Here, farmers gash, in ridin graith, Gaed hoddan by their cotters; There, swankies young, in braw braid-claith, Are springan owre the gutters. The lasses, skelpan barefit, thrang, In silks an' scarlets glitter; Wi' sweet-milk-cheese, in monie a whang, An farls, bak'd wi' butter, Fu' crump that day. VIII. When by the plate we set our note, Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence, A greedy glowr black-bonnet throws, An' we maun draw our tippence. Then in we go to see the show, On ev'ry side they're gath'ran; Some carryan dails, some chairs an' stools, An' some are busy bleth'ran Right loud that day, IX. Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs, An' screen our countra Gentry; There, racer Jess, an' twathree wh — res, Are blinkan at the entry. Here sits a raw o' tittlan jads, Wi' heaving breasts an' bare neck; An' there, a batch o' Wabster lads, Blackguarding frae K*******ck For fun this day. X. Here, some are thinkan on their sins, An' some upo' their claes; Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, Anither sighs an' prays: On this hand sits an Elect swatch, Wi' screw'd-up, grace-proud faces; On that, a set o' chaps, at watch, Thrang winkan on the lasses To chairs that days. XI. O happy is that man, an' blest! Nae wonder that it pride him! Whase ain dear lass, that he likes best, Comes clinkan down beside him! Wi' arm repos'd on the chair-back, He sweetly does compose him; Which, by degrees, slips round her neck, An's loof upon her bosom Unkend that day, XII. Now a' the congregation o'er Is silent expectation; For ****** speels the holy door, Wi' tidings o' s—lv—t—n. Should Hornie, as in ancient days, 'Mang sons o' G— present him, The vera fight o' ******'s face, To's ain het hame had sent him Wi' fright that day. XIII. Hear how he clears the points o' Faith Wi' rattlin an' thumpin! Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, He's stampan, an' he's jumpan! His lengthen'd chin, his turn'd up snout, His eldritch squeel an' gestures, O how they fire the heart devout, Like cantharidian plaisters On sic a day! XIV. But hark! the tent has chang'd it's voice; There's peace an' rest nae langer; For a' the real judges rise, They canna sit for anger. ***** opens out his cauld harangues, On practice and on morals; An' aff the godly pour in thrangs, To gie the jars an' barrels A lift that day. XV. What signifies his barren shine, Of moral pow'rs an' reason? His English style, an' gesture fine, Are a' clean out o' season. Like SOCRATES or ANTONINE, Or some auld pagan heathen, The moral man he does define, But ne'er a word o' faith in That's right that day. XVI. In guid time comes an antidote Against sic poosion'd nostrum; For *******, frae the water-fit, Ascends the holy rostrum: See, up he's got the word o' G —, An' meek an' mim has view'd it, While COMMON-SENSE has taen the road, An' aff, an' up the Cowgate Fast, fast that day. XVII. Wee ******, niest, the Guard relieves An' Orthodoxy raibles, Tho' in his heart he weel believes, An' thinks it auld wives' fables: But faith! the birkie wants a Manse, So, cannilie he hums them; Altho' his carnal Wit an' Sense Like hafflins-wife o'ercomes him At times that day. XVIII. Now, butt an' ben, the Change-house fills, Wi' yill-caup Commentators: Here's crying out for bakes an' gills, An' there the pint-stowp clatters; While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang, Wi' Logic, an' wi' Scripture, They raise a din, that, in the end, Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. XIX. Leeze me on Drink! it gies us mair Than either School or Colledge: It kindles Wit, it waukens Lear, It pangs us fou o' Knowledge. Be't whisky-gill or penny-wheep, Or ony stronger potion, It never fails, on drinkin deep, To kittle up our notion, By night or day. XX. The lads an' lasses, blythely bent To mind baith saul an' body, Sit round the table, weel content, An' steer about the toddy. On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk, They're makin observations; While some are cozie i' the neuk, An' forming assignations To meet some day. XXI. But now the L — 's ain trumpet touts, Till a' the hills are rairan, An' echos back return the shouts; Black ****** is na spairan: His piercin words, like Highlan swords, Divide the joints an' marrow; His talk o' H — ll, whare devils dwell, Our vera "Sauls does harrow" Wi' fright that day! XXII. A vast, unbottom'd, boundless Pit, Fill'd fou o' lowan brunstane, Whase raging flame, an' scorching heat, Wad melt the hardest whun-stane! The half asleep start up wi' fear, An' think they hear it roaran, When presently it does appear, 'Twas but some neebor snoran Asleep that day. XXIII. 'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell, How monie stories past, An' how they crouded to the yill, When they were a' dismist: How drink gaed round, in cogs an' caups Amang the furms an' benches; An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, Was dealt about in lunches, An' dawds that day. XXIV. In comes a gawsie, gash Guidwife, An' sits down by the fire, Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife; The lasses they are shyer. The auld Guidmen, about the grace, Frae side to side they bother, Till some ane by his bonnet lays, An' gies them't, like a tether, Fu' lang that day. XXV. Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass, Or lasses that hae naething! Sma' need has he to say a grace, Or melvie his braw claithing! O Wives be mindfu', ance yoursel, How bonie lads ye wanted, An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel, Let lasses be affronted On sic a day! XXVI. Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattlan tow, Begins to jow an' croon; Some swagger hame, the best they dow, Some wait the afternoon. At slaps the billies halt a blink, Till lasses strip their shoon: Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink, They're a' in famous tune For crack that day. XXVII. How monie hearts this day converts, O' sinners and o' Lasses! Their hearts o' stane, gin night are gane, As saft as ony flesh is. There's some are fou o' love divine; There's some are fou o' brandy; An' monie jobs that day begin, May end in Houghmagandie Some ither day.