Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

158
To mak a bit sonnet cost Willie nae fash,
For his verses came readier to him than the cash ;
Whene'er he took hand o' the scrunt o' a pen,
Lines lampin' like maukins cam doun frae his brain.
When a lilt he fell till't, as if nature he law'd,
He order'd his muse to awake for a jade ;
Then red wud for fame like a bold British tar,
In raptures she sang wi' her droll Willie Dunbar.
'Tis said that his fancy was ever in flight,
In the shine of the day and the shade of the night ;
And like a' ither rhjaners, as bodies remark,
He was lazy at naetliing but prayers and wark.
Willie lo'ed a bit spark o' the stark usquebey.
It put his sad heart in a happier key,
For he thocht that his roundels cam readier far,
When hauf capernuitie, this Willie Dunbar.
Sometimes when he spoke ye wad thocht him a clown
As vulgar as any in kintra or town ;
Other times ye wad thocht by his style sae complete.
He had soar'd like a lark frae Gamaliel's feet.
This moment and Willie was modest and mild.
But, sting him, like Boreas his raging was wild ;
Ye wad thocht in a covirt he might done for a scar
To our gentlemen liars, this droll Will Dunbar.
Droll Will Dunbar he could philosophize.
Could measure the carry, the earth, and the seas ;
Nae hist'ry, nor myst'ry, but Willie could scan.
Bamboozled wi' nought but the roguery o' man.
Will was friendly to man yet was jimp in belief.
For he watched their drift as he watched a thief.
And when they in their reveries began for to jaur.
That was balm to the bosom of droll Will Dunbar.