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.