"I'm leaving you, my weel-won gear,
At least the biggest share o't;
And so my hopefu' Johnny dear,
Ye maun take muckle care o't;
And ne'er let it diminish, Jock,
But aye keep adding to it;
Keep an e'e to your ain meal-pock,
For that's the way to do it.

"Stick to my never-tailing rule,
Ye've heard me aft repeat it;
It's ane they dinua teach at school,
It's "cheat or ye'll be cheated!"
Aye mind ye what the Bible says,
Mankind are a' deceivers ;

And crooked, crooked are the ways,

E'en o' the best believers.

They're fules that fecht 'bout kirk or state,

A' parties ye maun flatter;

Do ocht to bring a grist your gate,

Your kirk maun be the happer.

Frae politics nae good I got,

They made me sick and sorry;

But gin that

ye can sell

your vote,

Be either Whig or Tory!

"It matters little wha's in power,
The puir man's aye neglected;
But if ye've siller, then be sure,
Ye'll live and die respected;
Wi' it you may wear ony coat,
Then steadily pursue it ;
Ne'er caution, never lend a groat,
Or ye may live to rue it.

""Tween love o' drink, and love o' gear,
I've had a desp'rate battle:
;
My heart beat twa ways, Johnny dear,
Ilk time I wet my thrapple ;

It's weel eneugh as lang's that folk,
Will phrase and treat the miller;
But when ye come to pay for't, Jock,
It's death upon the siller.

"Avoid, avoid it, Johnny dear, It's waur than stupid nonsense;

U

Oh! what I've spent is lying here,

A wecht upon my conscience.

I never paid e'en for a jug,

O' puir weak whisky toddy;

But something whispered in my lug-
Man ye're a silly body.

"The lasses, they will set their caps, Nae doubt, to catch the miller ; Avoid their tea and coukie traps,

They'll lay them for your siller.

And then their mothers lay sic schemes,
And work on simple natures;

They'll turn e'en muckle men to weans,
They're sly, they're double creatures.

They're never but they're laying schemes,

To catch the thrifty fallows;

But ye'll avoid the cunning dames,

As ye would do the gallows; They're far mair crafty than the men,

If e'er they catch you dreamin; They'll hae you buckled e'er ye ken, Beware! beware o' women!"

Wi' that the body sough'd awa,

And a' his troubles ended;
And so his gear to me did fa',
And I've the heart to spend it.
So here's to misers and their ploys!
Somehow they ne'er consider ;

It's for sic rantin' roarin' boys,
They claut their gear tegither!

Then fill your glasses to the brim,
For now ye've heard my story ;
The Mill may either sink or swim,
We'll carry on the glory!

CHARLOCH BAN.*

To an old Highland tune.

The simmer birds are gane,
They're awa across the main,

Yet I rove the woods alane,

Charloch Ban, Charloch Ban.

You promised you'd be here,

When the Autumn leaf grew sere,

And ah noo its winter drear,

Charloch Ban, Charloch Ban.

O then ye were my pride,
By the green Glen-gary side,

When

ye said I'd be your bride, Charloch Ban, Charloch Ban.

Ye were a joy to see,

Wi' thy tartans waving free,

Fair Charlie.