eacher, kirk on kirk--
This yin a stot an' thon a stirk--
A bletherin' clan, no warth a preen.
As bad as Smith of Aiberdeen!

At last, across the weary faem,
Frae far, outlandish pairts I came.
On ilka side o' me I fand
Fresh tokens o' my native land.
Wi' whatna joy I hailed them a'--
The hill-taps standin' raw by raw,
The public-house, the Hielan' birks,
And a' the bonny U.P. kirks!
But maistly thee, the bluid o' Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to John o' Groats!
The king o' drinks, as I conceive it,
Talisker, Isla, or Glenlivet!

For after years wi' a pockmantie
Frae Zanzibar to Alicante,
In mony a fash and sair affliction
I gie't as my sincere conviction--
Of a' their foreign tricks an' pliskies,
I maist abominate their whiskies.
Nae doot, themsel's, they ken it weel,
An' wi' a hash o' leemon peel,
And ice an' siccan filth, they ettle
The stawsome kind o' goo to settle
Sic wersh apothecary's broos wi'
As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo's wi'.

An', man, I was a blithe hame-comer
Whan first I syndit out my rummer.
Ye should hae seen me then, wi' care
The less important pairts prepare;
Syne, weel contentit wi' it a',
Pour in the speerits wi' a jaw!
I didna drink, I didna speak,--
I only snowkit up the reek.
I was sae pleased therein to paidle,
I sat an' plowtered wi' my ladle.

An' blithe was I, the morrow's morn,
To daunder through the stookit corn,
And after a' my strange mishanters
Sit doun amang my ain dissenters
An', man, it was a joy to me
The pu'pit an' the pews to see,
The pennies dirlin' in the plate,
The elders lookin' on in state;
An' 'mang the first, as it befell,
Wha should I see, sir, but yoursel'!

I was, and I will no' deny it,
At the first gliff a hantle tryit
To see yoursel' in sic a station--
It seemed a doubtfue' dispensation.
The feelin' was a mere digression;
For shuene I understood the session,
An' mindin' Aiken an' M'Neil,
I wondered they had duene sae weel.
I saw I had mysel' to blame;
For had I but remained at hame,
Aiblins--though no ava' deservin' 't--
They micht hae named your humble servant.

The kirk was filled, the door was steiked;
Up to the pu'pit aince I keeked;
I was mair pleased than I can tell--
It was the minister himsel'!
Proud, proud was I to see his face,
After sae lang awa' frae grace.
Pleased as I was, I'm no' denyin'