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But soon a wonder came to light,

That show'd the rogues they lied;

The man recover'd of the bite,

The dog it was that died.


JOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers,

To tell them the reason why asses had ears?

"An't please you," quoth John, "I'm not given to letters,

"Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters; "Howe'er, from this time I shall ne'er see your graces, "As I hope to be sav'd! without thinking on asses.

Edinburgh, 1753.


WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray,

What charm can sooth her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her shame from every eye,

To give repentance to her lover,

And wring his, to die.




WHERE the Red Lion staring o'er the way,

Invites each passing stranger that can pay;
Where Calvert's butt, and Parsons' black champaign,

Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane;

There in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug,

The Muse found Scroggen stretch'd beneath a rug:

A window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray,
That dimly show'd the state in which he lay,
The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread,
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread:
The royal Game of Goose was there in view,
And the Twelve Rules the royal martyr drew;

The Seasons, fram'd with listing, found a place,

And brave Prince William show'd his lamp-black face:

The morn was cold, he views with keen desire

The rusty grate unconscious of a fire:

With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scor'd,

And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chimney-board;


A nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay,

A cap by night....a stocking all the day!

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