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EPISTLES BETWEEN AND ANDREW GRAY AND ROBERT FERGUSSON: TO ANDREW GRAY, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Nae langer bygane, than the streen
Last Line: And crack and sing.
Alternate Author Name(s): Ferguson, Robert
Subject(s): Butler, Samuel (1612-1680); Cabbage; Reason; Intellect; Rationalism; Brain; Mind; Intellectuals


Nae langer bygane, than the streen,
Your couthy letter met my een;
I lang to wag a cutty speen
On Amond water;
And claw the lips o' truncher treen
And tak a clatter.

"Frae Whistleha your muse doth cry;
Whare'er ye win I carena by;
Ye're no the laird o' Whistledry,
As lang's ye can
Wi routh o' reikin kail supply
The inward man.

You'll trou me, Billy, kail's fu geed
To synd an' peerify the bleid;
'Twill rin like ony scarlet reid,
While patt ye put on,
Wi wethers that round Amond feed,
The primest mutton.

Ane wad maist think ye'd been at Scoon,
Whan kings wure there the Scottish croun;
A soupler or mair fleetching loun
Ne'er hap'd on hurdies,
Whan courtiers' tongues war there in tune,
For oily wordies.

Can you nae ither theme divine
To blaw upon, but my ingyne?
At nature keek, she's unco fine
Redd up, and braw;
And can gie scouth to muses nine
At Whistle-ha.

Her road awhile is rough an' round,
An' few poetic gowans found;
The stey braes o' the muses' ground
We scarce can crawl up;
But on the tap we're light as wind
To scour an' gallop.

Whan first ye seyd to mak a riddle
Ye'd hae an unco fike an' piddle,
An' ablins brak aff i' the middle,
Like Samy Butler:
'Tis e'en sae wi Apollo's fiddle,
Before we wit lear.

Then flegna at this weary practice,
That's taen to get this wyly nack nice;
The eident muse begins to crack wise,
An' ne'er cry dule:
It's idleseat, that banefu black vice,
That gars her cool.

Andrew, at Whistleha, your een
May lippen for me very sien:
For barley scones my grinders grien.
They're special eating;
Wi bizzin cogs that ream abien,
Our thrapple weeting.

Till than may you had hale and fier,
That we to maltman's browst may steer,
And ilka care and ilka fear
To dogdrive ding;
While cheek for chow we laugh and jeer,
And crack and sing.





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