On Sunday from Auld Reikie by Tommy Mackay

On Sunday here, an alter'd scene
O' men and manners meets our ein;
Ane wad maist trow some people chose
To change their faces wi' their clo'es,
And fain wad gar ilk neighbour think
They thirst for goodness as for drink;

But there's an unco dearth o' grace,
That has nae mansion but the face;
And never can obtain a part
In benmost corner o' the heart.

Why shou'd religion mak us sad,
If good frae Virtue's to be had?
Na, rather gleefu' turn your face;
Forsake hypocrisy, grimace;

And never hae it understood
You fleg mankind frae being good.
In afternoon, a' brawly buskit,
The joes and lasses loe to frisk it:

Some tak a great delight to place
The modest bon-grace o'er the face;
Tho' you may see, if so inclin'd,
The turning o' the leg behind.
Now Comely-garden, and the Park,
Refresh them, after forenoon's wark;

Newhaven, Leith, or Canon-mills,
Supply them in their Sunday's gills:
Whare writers aften spend their pence,
To stock their heads wi' drink an' sense.

• Pop
• Edinburgh