Are set wi' cream and cheeses,--
Gae, gin you will, an' take your fill
Of whatsoever pleases.

Then wave your wand aboon my een
Until they close awearie,
And the night be past sae sweet and fast
Wi' dreamings o' my dearie.
But pinch the wench in yonder room,
For she's na gude nor bonnie,--
Her shelves be dust and her pans be rust,
And she winkit at my Johnnie!




APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE


Full many a sinful notion
Conceived of foreign powers
Has come across the ocean
To harm this land of ours;
And heresies called fashions
Have modesty effaced,
And baleful, morbid passions
Corrupt our native taste.
O tempora! O mores!
What profanations these
That seek to dim the glories