burlesque lament for the absence of william creech, publisher
auld chuckie reekie's 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—
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:
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,
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,
may sprout like simmer puddock-stools
in glen or shaw;
he wha could brush them down to mools—
willie's awa!
the brethren o' themerce-chaumer
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!
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—
willie's awa!