Transcription
GRUB STREET nae SATYRE: In ANSWER to bag=pipes no Musick. An EPISTLE to the Umquhile John Comper late Kirk-Treasurer's Man of Edinburgh; now his Ghaist studying Poetry at Oxford, for the Benefit of Ethert Curl. DEAR John, what ails ye now ? ly still: Hout Man! What need ye take it ill That ALLAN buried ye in Rhime, May be a Start afore ye'r Time ? He's nathing but a shire daft Lick, And disna care a Fidle-stick, Altho your Tutor Curl and ye Shou'd serve him sae in E L E G Y. DOUP down doild Ghaist, and dinna fash us With Carpet Ground, and nervous Clashes; Your Grubstreet Jargon DRYDEN wounds, When mixt with his POETICK SOUNDS. You pace on Pegasus!. Take Care, He'll bound o'er furrow d Fields of Air, And fling ye headlong frae the Skies, Never a second Time to rife: With sic a Fa, alake ! ye'll e'en a' Dash into Sherds like broken China. China and Men the same Fate skair, Ah me ! baith bruckle Earthen Ware. LANG serv'd ye in a mettl'd Station, The foremost Beegle of our Nation, For scenting out the yeilding Creature, Wha us'd to play at Whats-the-matter: But now, O fy for Shame to trudge, Ned Curle's poor Hackney scribling Drudge, To fill bis Pack, while you right fair Gain Title braw ! His singing Bear. But, John, Wha taugnt ye ilka Name, That shines sae bonnily in Fame, ROSECOMMON, STANHOPE, RAMSAY, DRYDEN, Wha back of winged Horse cou'd ride on ? A them we ken ; but wha the D? Bad you up Hill Parnassus speel. You RAMSAY make a feckfu' Man, Ringleader of a hearty Clan: Goodfaith it sets ye well to fear him, For gin ye etle anes to steer him, He'll gloom ye dead ;?in Rustick Phrase He'll gar his Thistles rive your Bays. Kinghorn, 16th November 1720. PATE BIRNIE.
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Date of publication:
1720 shelfmark: Ry.III.c.36(072)
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