I've heard 'em tell of Dana, and of Bonner, and of Reid, Of Johnnie Cockerill, who, I'll own, is very smart indeed; Yet I don't care what their renown or influence may be, One metropolitan exchange is quite enough for me! So keep your Danas, Bonners, Reids, your Cockerills, and the rest, The woods is full of better men all through this woolly West; For all that sleek, pretentious, Eastern editorial pack We wouldn't swap the shadow of Our little Mack! TO ROBIN GOODFELLOW I see you, Maister Bawsy-brown, Through yonder lattice creepin'; You come for cream and to gar me dream, But you dinna find me sleepin'. The moonbeam, that upon the floor Wi' crickets ben a-jinkin', Now steals away fra' her bonnie play-- Wi' a rosier blie, I'm thinkin'. I saw you, Maister Bawsy-brown, When the blue bells went a-ringin' For the merrie fays o' the banks an' braes, And I kenned your bonnie singin'; The gowans gave you honey sweets, And the posies on the heather Dript draughts o' dew for the faery crew That danct and sang together. But posie-bloom an' simmer-dew And ither sweets o' faery C'u'd na gae down wi' Bawsy-brown, Sae nigh to Maggie's dairy! My pantry shelves, sae clean and white, Are set wi' cream and cheeses,-- Gae, gin you will, an' take your fill Of whatsoever pleases. Then wave your wand aboon my een Until they close awearie, And the night be past sae sweet and fast Wi' dreamings o' my dearie. But pinch the wench in yonder room, For she's na gude nor bonnie,-- Her shelves be dust and her pans be rust, And she winkit at my Johnnie! APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE Full many a sinful notion Conceived of foreign powers Has come across the ocean To harm this land of ours; And heresies called fashions Have modesty effaced, And baleful, morbid passions Corrupt our native taste. O tempora! O mores! What profanations these That seek to dim the glories Of apple-pie and cheese! I'm glad my education Enables me to stand Against the vile temptation Held out on every hand; Eschewing all the tittles With vanity replete, I'm loyal to the victuals Our grandsires used to eat! I'm glad I've got three willing boys To hang around and tease Their mother for the filling joys Of apple-pie and cheese! Your flavored creams and ices And your dainty angel-food Are mighty fine devices To regale the dainty dude; Your terrapin and oysters, With wine to wash 'em down, Are just the thing for roisters When painting of the town; No flippant, sugared notion Shall _my_ appetite appease, Or bate my soul's devotion To apple-pie and cheese! The pie my Julia makes me (God bless her Yankee ways!) On memory's pinions takes me To dear Green Mountain days; And seems like I see Mother Lean on the window-sill, A-handin' me and brother What she knows 'll keep us still; And these feelings are so grateful, Says I, "Julia, if you please, I'll take another plateful Of that apple-pie and cheese!"