Spoken:
In Scotland, the Slaughter-house-keeper may pay His Journeymen Butchers, and thrive on his prey: The victims are quickly cut up in his shop, And he pockets the profits, secure from the drop. In Edina town, where your friend you may meet, At morning, in health, walking forth in the street; And, at evening, decoy'd and deprived of his life, His corpse fresh and warm is laid out for the knife. What is our land at last come to? Our ancestors would weep, And say, with many, were they here, "Look well before ye leap!" Ye prowling Resurrectionists, Of every clime and shore, Remember Burke, that smoth'ring wretch, For he is now no more. This monster, with his meagre chief, In actions mean and low, Resolv'd to rid the land of all That wander'd to and fro. Two buxom females, with these brutes, In this work had their share:- One party coax'd them to the den The other slew them there. They with the greatest kindness wiled Daft Jamie off the street, Whose playful manners did delight All that he chanced to meet. With Judas smiles they did betray The aged Dougherty; Who wander'd long, from door to door In search of charity. McDougal, Paterson, and more Were by these fiends beguil'd, Nor did they shudder to destroy The helpless smiling child. Men, women, children, old and young The sickly and the hale, Were murder'd, pack'd up, and sent off To Knox's human sale. That man of skill, with subjects warm, Was frequently supplied; Nor did he question when or how The persons brought had died! If he want subjects let him try From France to get them o'er; For he can get them, when he will, Sent at six pounds the score. Or let him try some legal means His subjects to obtain; Nor ever more in word or deed Wink at such tricks again. One of the tribe has met his fate On gibbet high and strong; And if such pranks are play'd again, The rest will swing ere long!
Embro, Embro Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin
