Poem by David Crawford

A Letter sent to a Gentleman, who had advised the Author to be a Volunteer, but was rejected on account of Age

Dear Sir, last night I gave a call 
As was propos’d at Merchants-hall 
When Gol’nel Crichton knew my age, 
He said he could not me engage. 
I found my heart began to dunt, 
I thought it rather an affront, 
There’s volunteers that I can see, 
Both old and weaker men than me. 
I never meant to pocket pay, 
But just to learn the art to play,
In case invasion should take place, 
To meet a Frenchman in the face, 
As bold as others in the core, 
Upon a field where cannons roar, 
Although I am on the decline, 
Perhaps I might Hand one campaign.

1. An Answer to Will. M’Vitie
2. On receiving a Shock from an Electric Machine, when Author was troubled with Pains
3. Ode the Recovery of His Majesty from His Late Illness, in the Year 1789
4. Verses on the Edinburgh Volunteers Receiving their Colours, September 26, 1794

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