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burlesque lament for the absence of william creech, publisher(2 / 2)

now worthy gregory's latin face,

tytler's and greenfield's modest grace;

mackenzie, stewart, such a brace

as rome ne'er saw;

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,

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;

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,

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!

may i be slander'smon speech;

a text for infamy to preach;

and lastly, streekit out to bleach

in winter snaw;

when i forget thee, willie creech,

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!

then to the blessed new jerusalem,

fleet wing awa!

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