A poem written by Robert Burn as an invitation to a Medical Gentleman, to attend a Masonic anniversary meeting.
Friday first's the day appointed,
By our Right Worshipful anointed,
To hold our grand procession!
to get a blade o Johnnie's morals,
and taste a awatch o Manson's barrels,
I ' the way of our profession,
Our Master and the Brotherhood,
Wad a' be glad to see you;
For me i would be mair than proud
To share the mercies wi' you.
If death, then, wi' scaith, then
Some mortal heart is hechtin,
Inform him, and storm him,,
That saturday ye'll fecht him.
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