Stanzas On Naething
stanzas on naething
extempore epistle to gavin hamilton, esq.
to you, sir, this summons i've sent,
pray, whip till the pownie is freathing;
but if you demand what i want,
i honestly answer you—naething.
ne'er scorn a poor poet like me,
for idly just living and breathing,
while people of every degree
are busy employed about—naething.
poor centum-per-centum may fast,
and grumble his hurdies their claithing,
he'll find, when the balance is cast,
he's gane to the devil for-naething.
the courtier cringes and bows,
ambition has likewise its plaything;
a coronet beams on his brows;
and what is a coronet-naething.
some quarrel the presbyter gown,
some quarrel episcopal graithing;
but every good fellow will own
their quarrel is a' about—naething.
the lover may sparkle and glow,
approaching his bonie bit gay thing:
but marriage will soon let him know
he's gotten—a buskit up naething.
the poet may jingle and rhyme,
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.