Versified Note To Dr. Mackenzie, Mauchline
Friday first's the day appointed By the Right Worshipful anointed,
To hold our grand procession; To get a blad o' Johnie's morals, And taste a swatch o' Manson's barrels
I' the way of our profession. The Master and the Brotherhood Would a' be glad to see you; For me I would be mair than proud
To share the mercies wi' you. If Death, then, wi' skaith, then, Some mortal heart is hechtin, Inform him, and storm him, That Saturday you'll fecht him.
The Farewell To the Brethren of St. James' Lodge, Tarbolton.
Tune--“Guidnight, and joy be wi' you a'.”
Adieu! a heart-warm fond adieu; Dear brothers of the mystic tie! Ye favoured, enlighten'd few, Companions of my social joy; Tho' I to foreign lands must hie, Pursuing Fortune's slidd'ry ba'; With melting heart, and brimful eye, I'll mind you still, tho' far awa.
Oft have I met your social band, And spent the cheerful, festive night; Oft, honour'd with supreme command, Presided o'er the sons of light: And by that hieroglyphic bright, Which none but Craftsmen ever saw Strong Mem'ry on my heart shall write Those happy scenes, when far awa.
May Freedom, Harmony, and Love, Unite you in the grand Design, Beneath th' Omniscient Eye above, The glorious Architect Divine, That you may keep th' unerring line, Still rising by the plummet's law, Till Order bright completely shine, Shall be my pray'r when far awa.
And you, farewell! whose merits claim Justly that highest badge to wear: Heav'n bless your honour'd noble name, To Masonry and Scotia dear! A last request permit me here,-- When yearly ye assemble a', One round, I ask it with a tear, To him, the Bard that's far awa.
On A Scotch Bard, Gone To The West Indies
A' ye wha live by sowps o' drink, A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, A' ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi' me! Our billie 's gien us a' a jink, An' owre the sea!
Lament him a' ye rantin core, Wha dearly like a random splore; Nae mair he'll join the merry roar; In social key; For now he's taen anither shore. An' owre the sea!
The bonie lasses weel may wiss him, And in their dear petitions place him: The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him Wi' tearfu' e'e; For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him That's owre the sea!