| |
| AULD chuckie Reekie’s 1 sair distrest, | |
| Down droops her ance weel burnish’d crest, | |
| Nae joy her bonie buskit nest | |
| Can yield ava, | |
| Her darling bird that she lo’es best— | 5 |
| Willie’s awa! | |
| |
| O Willie was a witty wight, | |
| And had o’ things an unco’ sleight, | |
| Auld Reekie aye he keepit tight, | |
| And trig an’ braw: | 10 |
| But now they’ll busk her like a fright,— | |
| Willie’s awa! | |
| |
| The stiffest o’ them a’ he bow’d, | |
| The bauldest o’ them a’ he cow’d; | |
| They durst nae mair than he allow’d, | 15 |
| That was a law: | |
| We’ve lost a birkie weel worth gowd; | |
| Willie’s awa! | |
| |
| Now gawkies, tawpies, gowks and fools, | |
| Frae colleges and boarding schools, | 20 |
| May sprout like simmer puddock-stools | |
| In glen or shaw; | |
| He wha could brush them down to mools— | |
| Willie’s awa! | |
| |
| The brethren o’ the Commerce-chaumer | 25 |
| May mourn their loss wi’ doolfu’ clamour; | |
| He was a dictionar and grammar | |
| Among them a’; | |
| I fear they’ll now mak mony a stammer; | |
| Willie’s awa! | 30 |
| |
| Nae mair we see his levee door | |
| Philosophers and poets pour, | |
| And toothy critics by the score, | |
| In bloody raw! | |
| The adjutant o’ a’ the core— | 35 |
| Willie’s awa! | |
| |
| Now worthy Gregory’s Latin face, | |
| Tytler’s and Greenfield’s modest grace; | |
| Mackenzie, Stewart, such a brace | |
| As Rome ne’er saw; | 40 |
| They a’ maun meet some ither place, | |
| Willie’s awa! | |
| |
| Poor Burns ev’n Scotch Drink canna quicken, | |
| He cheeps like some bewilder’d chicken | |
| Scar’d frae it’s minnie and the cleckin, | 45 |
| By hoodie-craw; | |
| Grieg’s gien his heart an unco kickin, | |
| Willie’s awa! | |
| |
| Now ev’ry sour-mou’d girnin blellum, | |
| And Calvin’s folk, are fit to fell him; | 50 |
| Ilk self-conceited critic skellum | |
| His quill may draw; | |
| He wha could brawlie ward their bellum— | |
| Willie’s awa! | |
| |
| Up wimpling stately Tweed I’ve sped, | 55 |
| And Eden scenes on crystal Jed, | |
| And Ettrick banks, now roaring red, | |
| While tempests blaw; | |
| But every joy and pleasure’s fled, | |
| Willie’s awa! | 60 |
| |
| May I be Slander’s common speech; | |
| A text for Infamy to preach; | |
| And lastly, streekit out to bleach | |
| In winter snaw; | |
| When I forget thee, Willie Creech, | 65 |
| Tho’ far awa! | |
| |
| May never wicked Fortune touzle him! | |
| May never wicked men bamboozle him! | |
| Until a pow as auld’s Methusalem | |
| He canty claw! | 70 |
| Then to the blessed new Jerusalem, | |
| Fleet wing awa! | |
