1753 Poem, Anon. (William Starrat), ‘The Pig, or the power of Prejudice’

The Pig, or the power of Prejudice

The PIG, or the power of Prejudice, A  Tale.

A Muntabank anes strol’d about,

Seeking saft headed gilpies out,

To cure them of stupidity,

And confidence in sic as he.

Wi’ him a merry-andrew ga’d,

Weel practis’d in the drolling trade;

Wha wi’ his tricks, his gibes, and joaking,

Brought, by the lugs, the kintry folk in. —

Poor barren joaks, and e’en thread bare,

And common as a barber’s chair;

Sic as th’ astrologer of Derry,

Puts in sad verse, to make us merry,

Where line and line as vilely kipple,

As when a fool rins wi’ a cripple.

Weel drest, and braw the doctor stood,

Collecting shillings frae the croud;

And in return he gi’ them back

Paper, and druggs no worth a plack;

While merry-andrew bald, and slee,

Contented them wi’ mirth, and glee.

Anes on a day the stage he munts,

Sine, like a pig, squeeks, squeels, and grunts;

And did it wi’ sae mickle skill,

That ev’rybody leugh their fill:

And in the midst of their gaffaws,

They clapt their hands, and gi’ applause:

"Wow but he does it wond’rous weel,

"Nae pig on earth could better squeel".

While thus they clapt, and leugh ding dang:

Ald-farrand Hab increast the thrang:

But I maun drap my tale a wee,

Ae necessary hint to gi’.

Hab ne’er was relish’d by the lave,

For when he saw them misbehave,

He wad reprove them, and essay

To put them in a better way:

This vext them sair, — his better sense

Disgusted them, and gi’ offence.

The being oughtlins obligated

To any ane — was what they hated:

And therefore did the man envy,

Wha pat them under sic a tye.

Thus half drown’d wretches aften hate

The friendly hand that sav’d them frae’t.

Thus Hab’s endeavours a’ did fail:

And thus I reassume my tale.

Quo’ he, does any ferly kythe,

Dear nighbours, that ye’re a’ sae blythe?

When they reply’d; — what need ye speer,

Yonder’s the cheel that gars us sneer;

He imitates a pig sae weel,

In ilka gruntle, squeek and squeel,

That when you hear him, ye will sweer,

It is a pig itself ye hear. —

And what’s far mair, for there’s the joak,

You’ll think the pig’s aneath his cloak.

In trowth, quo’ Hab, then I may say,

Ye’re just e’en kittled wi’ a strae;

Which to my mind the proverb brings,

That fools are fain o’ feckless things;

How can sic toys your fancy strike,

When any ane can do the like?

That is na you, they a’ reply’d.

Easy, quo’ Hab, let that be try’d:

Come here the morn, and ye shall hae

Convincing proofs of what I say.

The morning came, the company

Met a’, the rival droll to see:

He munts the stage, and ’neath his cloak,

He brought a pig stow’d in a poke.

Then wi’ a nip, or scart, or dunt,

He gart it squeek, or squeel, or grunt;

But did na please — they a’ cry’d out;

‘That like a pig! — ye canna do’t.

Nae pig on earth wad that gate squeel!

A creaking cart wad do as weel:

Ye fool, you sot, your labour hain;

Let merry-andrew till’t again’.

And now, quo’ Hab, to let you see,

How fause your biass’d judgments gee:

It is a pig it sell I’ve got:

Now wha’s the fool, and wha’s the sot.

But neighbours, if ye wad be wise,

In judging true, take my advice;

Sling off self-will, and prejudice.