Classic Poem

Thank heav'n! I'm safely landed frae Ostend,
My broken ribs and shattered arms to mend
By famous Wilson in the Canongate;
These wings of my poor trunk he'll reinstate.
Besides for him ambassador I'm sent,
To post direct to Tournay or to Ghent
Wi' twa three thousand o' his leather skulls,
Legs, thighs an' arms, to equip our battered hulls;
Toes, fingers, noses he must bring in bushels
T' adorn our wounded swads who pine in Brussels.
This news will raise his honest heart wi' joy,
When there for night and day he'll get employ.
But first I'll ca' on Johnny Block. See there!
Speak o' the de'il, gude troth he'll soon appear.
How does my auld acquaintance Johnny Block?
‘Just like yoursel', a fair forfoughten cock;
For I've been pressed away and stood below,
Drubbing the French wi' famed Sir Edward Pellew.
But O! ye see I've got an unco fleg,
My thigh is broke and lopped off is my leg;
And now alas! I canna get remede,
For famous Wilson's numbered with the dead.’
Dead! say ye, John? Support me, or I'll faint:
The best o' men to mortals ever lent
By gracious heav'n!—Britannia, hang your head,
Since our far-famed man-mender's numbered wi' the dead.
Mourn wi' us, soldiers, sailors and commanders,
And a' the pride o' Germany and Flanders;
For doctors, surgeons, put them a' together,
They cu'dna' match our mighty God of Leather.
Lord help us, Johnny! this war how it stings;
Half-butchered thus, we cripple, lacking wings.
But hush, we'll house in Embro' time to pass,
Humming his elegy out o'er a flowing glass.