On the late Captain Grose's Peregrinations thro' Scotland collecting the Antiquities o that kingdom
On Capt.n the late Capt.n Grose's peregrinations
thro' Scotland, collecting the antiquities of that
kingdom.-
Hear, Land o' Cakes, & brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk, to Johnie Groats!
If there's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede you tent it:
I chield's amang you, taking notes,
And faith, he'll print it.-
If in your bounds ye chance to light
Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight,
O' stature short but genius bright,
That's he, mark weel-
And wow! he has an unco slight
O'cauk & keel.
*By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,
Or kirk deserted by its riggin,
Its ten to ane ye'll find him snug in
Some eldritch part wi'
*Vide, His Antiquities of Scotland}
thro' Scotland, collecting the antiquities of that
kingdom.-
Hear, Land o' Cakes, & brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk, to Johnie Groats!
If there's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede you tent it:
I chield's amang you, taking notes,
And faith, he'll print it.-
If in your bounds ye chance to light
Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight,
O' stature short but genius bright,
That's he, mark weel-
And wow! he has an unco slight
O'cauk & keel.
*By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,
Or kirk deserted by its riggin,
Its ten to ane ye'll find him snug in
Some eldritch part wi'
*Vide, His Antiquities of Scotland}
Wi' deils, they say, L-d safe's! Colleaguin
At some black art -
Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha', or chamer,
Ye gipsey-gang that deal in glamor;
And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar,
Warlocks & witches,
Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
Ye midnight b---es.-
It's tauld he was a sodger bred,
And ane was rather fa'n than fled;
But now he's quat the spurtle-blade
And dog-skin wallet,
And taen the ----- Antiquarian trade,
I think they call it.
He has a fouth of auld nick-nackets:
*Rusty airn caps & jinglin jackets,
Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets
A towmont gude;
And porritch-pats, & auld saut-backets,
Before the Flood.-
*Vide, His treatise on ancient armour & weapons.-
At some black art -
Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha', or chamer,
Ye gipsey-gang that deal in glamor;
And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar,
Warlocks & witches,
Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
Ye midnight b---es.-
It's tauld he was a sodger bred,
And ane was rather fa'n than fled;
But now he's quat the spurtle-blade
And dog-skin wallet,
And taen the ----- Antiquarian trade,
I think they call it.
He has a fouth of auld nick-nackets:
*Rusty airn caps & jinglin jackets,
Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets
A towmont gude;
And porritch-pats, & auld saut-backets,
Before the Flood.-
*Vide, His treatise on ancient armour & weapons.-
Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder;
Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool & fender;
That which distinguished the gender
O'Balaan's ass;
A broom-stick o' the Witch of Endor,
Weel shod wi' brass.-
Forbye, he'll shape you aff fu' gleg
The cut of Adam's philibeg,
The knife that nicket Abel's craig,
He'll prove you fully,
If 'twas a faulding jocteleg,
Or lang-kail gullie.-
But wad ye see him in his glee,
For meikle glee & fun has he,
Then set him down, & twa, or three
Gude fellows wi' him,
And port, O port ! shine thou a wee,
And then ye'll see him!
Now, by the Powers o' Verse & Prose!
Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose:
Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,
They sair misca' thee
Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool & fender;
That which distinguished the gender
O'Balaan's ass;
A broom-stick o' the Witch of Endor,
Weel shod wi' brass.-
Forbye, he'll shape you aff fu' gleg
The cut of Adam's philibeg,
The knife that nicket Abel's craig,
He'll prove you fully,
If 'twas a faulding jocteleg,
Or lang-kail gullie.-
But wad ye see him in his glee,
For meikle glee & fun has he,
Then set him down, & twa, or three
Gude fellows wi' him,
And port, O port ! shine thou a wee,
And then ye'll see him!
Now, by the Powers o' Verse & Prose!
Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose:
Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,
They sair misca' thee
I'd take the rascal by the nose,
Wad say, shame fa' thee
[Start of 'To Miss C+++++++++, a very young Lady' see 3.6265]
Wad say, shame fa' thee
[Start of 'To Miss C+++++++++, a very young Lady' see 3.6265]

Key details
- Archive number
- NTS/02/25/BRN/02/194
- Alt. number
- 3.6264
- On display
- No
- Creator
- Burns, Robert (Author)
- Recipient
- Grose, Captain Francis
Archive information
Themes
Hierarchy
-
Robert Burns, collection of poems and songs
(
a sub-fonds is a subdivision in the archival material)
- On the late Captain Grose's Peregrinations thro' Scotland collecting the Antiquities o that kingdom
Caring for collections
A gift of £5 a month can help us ensure collections like the Robert Burns Collection receive ongoing care and are shared with as many people as possible.