Poem by Isabel Pagan

On Burns and Ramsay

Now Burns and Ramsay both are dead.
Although I cannot them succeed;
Yet here I’ll try my natural skill,
And hope you will not take it ill.

You know their learning was not sma’,
And mine is next to nae at a’.
Their must be brighter than mine,
Because I’m much on the decline.

I hope the public will excuse
What I have done here by my Muse.
As different men are of different minds,
My metre is of different kinds.

1. Account of the Author’s Lifetime
2. Muirkirk Light Weights
3. The Crook and Plaid
4. Skit on an Old Huntsman
5. The Putting Begins

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