Stray leaves from the portfolios of Alisander the seer, Andrew Whaup, and Humphrey Henkeckle

STRAY LEAVES.
121
Pays homage to Mahomet’s dust;
While the Jew for Jerusalem sighs;
But, 0, his late Majesty’s bust
Upon gold, is the god which we prize.
Poh! what were your early Apostles,
Wi’ a’ their great light from above ?
Poor innocent, tractable dociles,
Their labours were labours of love.
Their labours were labours of love :
Our labours are labours of gain.
Our horse-leech’s cry is—‘ Give, give !’
Yes, give till we cannot retain.
The poor, how they clamour for bread!
How loud are their sighs and their moans!
But the rogues must have something instead.
So we’ll give them a richle of stones :
Yea, we’ll give them a rickle of stones,
In shape of a honnie bit kirk;
And we’ll join in their tears and their groans.
And gull them by each pious quirk.
Then, 0, for some further Endowments,
Our paunches and pouches to cram ;
For wanting such earthly bestowments.
Our craft would be not worth a ;
Our craft would be not worth a ,
Unless we were handsomely paid.
But hush, never blab, ’tis all sham.
While the State is our bulwark and aid.
L