the ordination

for sense they little owe to frugal heav'n—

to please the mob, they hide the little giv'n.

kilmarnock wabsters, fidge an' w,

an' pour your creeshie nations;

an' ye wha leather rax an' draw,

of a' denominations;

swith to the ligh kirk, ane an' a'

an' there tak up your stations;

then aff to begbie's in a raw,

an' pour divine libations

for joy this day.

curst mon-sense, that imp o' hell,

cam in wi' ieuder;

but oliphant aft made her yell,

an' russell sair misca'd her:

this day mackiy taks the il,

an' he's the boy will ud her!

he'll p a shangan on her tail,

an' set the bairns to daud her

wi' dirt this day.

mak haste an' turn king david owre,

and lilt wi' holy ngor;

o' double verse e gie us four,

an' skirl up the bangor:

this day the kirk kicks up a stoure;

nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,

for heresy is in her pow'r,

and gloriously she'll whang her

wi' pith this day.

e, let a proper text be read,

an' touch it aff wi' vigour,

how graceless ham leugh at his dad,

which made canaan a er;

or phineas drove the murdering de,

wi' whore-abhorring rigour;

or zipporah, the scauldin jad,

was like a bluidy tiger

i' th' inn that day.

there, try his mettle on the creed,

an' bind him down wi' caution,

that stipend is a carnal weed

he taks by for the fashion;

and gie him o'er the flock, to feed,

and punish each transgression;

especial, rams that cross the breed,

gie them sufficient threshin;

spare them nae day.

now, auld kilmarnock, cock thy tail,

an' toss thy horns fu' canty;

nae mair thou'lt rowt out-owre the dale,

because thy pasture's scanty;

forpfu'srge o' gospel kail

shall fill thy crib in plenty,

an' runts o' grace the pick an' wale,

no gi'en by way o' dainty,

but ilka day.

nae mair by babel's streams we'll weep,

to think upon our zion;

and hing our fiddles up to sleep,

like baby-clouts a-dryin!

e, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep,

and o'er the thairms be tryin;

oh, rare to see our elbucks wheep,

and a' likemb-tails flyin