Stanzas On Naething（2 / 2）

in hopes of a laureate wreathing,

and when he has wasted his time,

he's kindly rewarded wi'—naething.

the thundering bully may rage,

and swagger and swear like a heathen;

but collar him fast, i'll engage,

you'll find that his courage is—naething.

last night wi' a feminine whig—

a poet she couldna put faith in;

but soon we grew lovingly big,

i taught her, her terrors were naething.

her whigship was wonderful pleased,

but charmingly tickled wi' ae thing,

her fingers i lovingly squeezed,

and kissed her, and promised her—naething.

the priest anathemas may threat—

predicament, sir, that we're baith in;

but when honour's reveille is beat,

the holy artillery's naething.

and now i must mount on the wave—

my voyage perhaps there is death in;

but what is a watery grave?

the drowning a poet is naething.

and now, as grim death's in my thought,

to you, sir, i make this bequeathing;

my service as long as ye've ought,

and my friendship, by god, when ye've naething.