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Poem	NAE heathen name shall I prefix, Frae Pindus or Parnassus; Auld Reekie dings them a’ to sticks, For rhyme-inspiring lasses. Jove’s tunefu’ dochters three times three Made Homer deep their debtor; But, gien the body half an e’e, Nine Ferriers wad done better! Last day my mind was in a bog, Down George’s Street I stoited; A creeping cauld prosaic fog My very sense doited. Do what I dought to set her free, My saul lay in the mire; Ye turned a neuk—I saw your e’e— She took the wing like fire! The mournfu’ sang I here enclose, In gratitude I send you, And pray, in rhyme as weel as prose, A’ gude things may attend you!
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