The Bruiser from Auld Reikie by Tommy Mackay

Frae joyous tavern, reeling drunk,
Wi' fiery phiz, and ein half sunk,
Behad the bruiser, fae to a'
That in the reek o' gardies fa'

Close by his side, a feckless race
O' macaronies shaw their face,
And think they're free frae skaith or harm,
While pith befriends their leader's arm:

Yet fearfu' aften o' their maught,
They quit the glory o' the faught
To this same warrior wha led
Thae heroes to bright honour's bed;

And aft the hack o' honour shines
In bruiser's face wi' broken lines:
O' them sad tales he tells anon,
Whan ramble and whan fighting's done;
And, like Hectorian, ne'er impairs
The brag and glory o' his sairs.

Whan feet in dirty gutters plash,
And fock to wale their fitstaps fash;
At night the macaroni drunk,
In pools and gutters aftimes sunk:

Hegh! what a fright he now appears,
Whan he his corpse dejected rears!
Look at that head, and think if there
The pomet slaister'd up his hair!
The cheeks observe, where now cou'd shine
The scansing glories o' carmine!
Ah, legs! in vain the silk-worm there
Display'd to view her eident care;

For stink, instead of perfumes, grow,
And clarty odours fragrant flow.
Now some to porter, some to punch,
Some to their wife, and some their wench,
Retire, while noisy ten-hours' drum
Gars a' your trades gae dand'ring home.

Now mony a club, jocose and free,
Gie a' to merriment and glee:
Wi' sang and glass, they fley the pow'r
O' care that wad harrass the hour:
For wine and Bacchus still bear down
Our thrawart fortune's wildest frown;
It maks you stark, and bauld, and brave,
E'en whan descending to the grave.

• Pop
• Edinburgh