Macfadden?

Nae sweeter soond I weel could ween,
Exceppin' it micht be, sirs,
The soond that hurtled oot when'er
Macfadden hit Macfee, sirs.

An awfu' fecht it was to see,
A fecht baith fell an' dour, sirs,
For ere the tuilzie weel began
The glen was fu' o' stour, sirs.

An awfu' fecht, again I say't,
And on each auld clay biggin',
The freends o' baith, like hoodie craws,
Were roostin' on the riggin'.

And aye they buckled till't wi' birr;
In combat sair an' grievous,
They glanced like lightnin' up Strathyre
An' thundered doon Ben Nevis.

Wha won the fecht, or whilk ane lost,
Was hid frae mortal e'e, sirs,
Nane saw the fearsome end o' baith
Macfadden an' Macfee, sirs.

But still they say, at break o' day,
Upon the braes o' Lorne,
Ye'll hear the ghaistly rustlin' o'
Macfadden's Sabbath sporran.

TAM AND THE LEECHES.

I.
Faith, there's a hantle queer complaints
To cheenge puir sinners into saints,
An' mony divers ways o' deein'
That doctors hae a chance o' seein'.
The Babylonian scartit bricks
To tell his doots o' Death's dark tricks,
The Roman kentna hoo 'twas farin'
Across the ferry rowed by Charon,
An' readin' doonwards through the ages
The tale's the same in a' their pages,
Eternal grum'lin' at the load
We hae to bear alang Life's road,
Yet, when we're fairly at the bit,
Awfu', maist awfu sweer to flit,
Praisin' the name o' ony drug
The doctor whispers in oor lug
As guaranteed to cure the evil,
To haud us here an' cheat the Deevil.
For gangrels, croochin' in the strae,
To leave this warld are oft as wae
As the prood laird o' mony an acre,
O' temporal things a keen partaker.

II.
Noo a' this leads up to my tale
O' what befell puir Tam MacPhail,
A dacent miner chiel in Fife
Wha led a maist exemplar' life,
An' ne'er abused himsel' wi' liquor,
But took it canny-like an' siccar.
Aye when he cast his wet pit-breeks,
Tam had a gless that warm'd his cheeks;
For as it trickled owre his craigie,
He held it wardit aff lumbaigy.
It wasna that he liked the dram,
'Twas pure needcessity wi' Tam!
But twa years syne-or was it three?-
Tam thocht that he was gaun to dee,
An' Faith! they've often gar'd me grew
By tellin' what I'll tell to you.

III.
The early tatties had come in
When Tammas's besettin' sin,
A love o' a' this warld's gude things
An' a' the pleesures eatin' brings,
Gar'd him hae sic a bad mischeef
It fleggit him ayont belief!
Pay-Saturday it was, I mind,
An' Jean, intendin'