I like to see a niggard man,
One of the great Macdonald clan;
When others are in quest of gain
This man the needy will sustain.
Your mother, if an honest dame,
Has not retained her wedlock fame;
No part is Mac from top to toe,
You're either Rose or else Munro.
When to the house you turned your face,
Let it be told to your disgrace,
'Twas for the dregs you had forgot,
The Poet's curse be in your throat.
The bridegroom, as we may well believe, smarted under the chastisement
administered to him. He took an early opportunity of putting himself in
the poet's way. Seeing Mr Macpherson riding past his place one day, he
went to meet him with a bottle and glass, and importunately begged of
him that he would have the goodness to say something now in his favour.
Mr Macpherson complied with the request. Sitting on horseback, and
taking the glass in his hand, he pronounced the ensuing eulogy on the
bridegroom:--