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.