The Scottish songs - National Library of Scotland

442
At our annual elections for bailies or mayor,
Nae kick-shaw8, or puddings, or tarts, were seen there ;
But a cog o' gude brose was the favourite fare
O ! the kail-brose, &c.
But when we remember the English, our foes.
Our ancestors beat them wi' very few blows
John Bull oft cried, O I let us rin—they've got brose I
O ! the kail-brose, &c.
But, now that the thistle is joined to the rose,
And the English nae langer are counted our foes,
We've lost a great deal of our relish for brose :
O ! the kail-brose, &c.
; : ; :
Yet each true-hearted Scotsman, by nature jocose,
Likes always to feast on a cogue o' gude brose
And, thanks be to Heaven, we've plenty of those
O I the kail-brose of auld Scotland,
And O ! the auld Scottish kail-brose ! *
* Said to have been written by Sheriff, an Aberdeenshire poet,
who published two volumes of poems, and regarding whom the following
anecdote is told :—
When Burns first came to Edinburgh, in the end of the year 1786, he applied
to one of the most respectable printers in town, and ordered a quantity
of prospectuses of the second edition of his poems. He had shaken off
but little of his professional mould ; his dress was by no means gay ; aad
he had acquired a very small portion of the reputation ho afterwards attained
to. Of course, he did not appear in the eyes of an Edinburgh tradesman
the most promising customer in the world. So much, indeed, had he
the appearance of something the reverse, that when he called for his prospectuses,
and began to talk of having the work itself printed, Mr ,
with great politeness of manner, hinted at a custom which obtained among
men of his profession, namely, to require payment by advance, in the case
of doing business for the first time with strangers. At this ungracious insinuation,
the dark cheek of Burns flushed in a moment with the brightest
crimson, and pulling a considerable quantity of money from his pocket,
he eagerly demanded what he had to pay, tabled the amount, and instantly
left the place, notwithstanding all that the printer could say in palliation of
his suspicions.
A multitudinous impression of Burns's poems was issued next spring
from a rival printing-house, and Mr cursed the mal-a-propos cautiousness
which had lost him so excellent and so promising a job. With
the usual blindness of all persons connected with his profession, which supposes,
that because one thing has succeeded, another thing of the same external
nature will also succeed, he resolved not to let slip another opportu-