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CUPID IN THE TEMPLE, by                    
First Line: I canna, winna cloak the fact
Last Line: But cease your sabbath descration!
Subject(s): Cupid; Love; Eros


I CANNA, winna cloak the fact --
Tho' sairly to my shame it's spoken --
On Sunday gane -- immodest act --
Wi' Cupid I'd a lively yokin'.
To kirk I gaed in high resolve
To weld my fancy wi' the sermon;
Lat naething else my thochts involve,
Nor hear, nor see, but Dr. Hermon.

But Dauvit's hymn was jimply read,
When bang a dart gaed thro' my waistcoat --
A lass afore me turn'd her head,
Her charmin' face I gat a glisk o't;
It set my being a' alowe,
An' a' day lang that face seem'd bent on's;
Lat Doctor Hermon rant's he dow,
I couldna catch a single sentence.

His ilka lang-drawn metaphor
Seem'd but word-etchin's o' her features,
An' in the pulpit, smitsome fair,
I saw her face instead the preacher's;
When praises well'd frae every heart,
I heard but ae sweet voice afore me;
An' when we kneel'd, as when we sate,
Her roguish een were beamin' o'er me.

By conscience thrice I felt rebuk'd,
An' thrice I made renew'd endeavour;
Towards the preacher firmly look'd,
Determin'd on improved behaviour;
But a' was faucht to nae avail,
For lood as conscience lik'd to faut me,
I couldna help my sinfu' sel',
Wi' twa sic een aye lookin' at me.

As hame I hied the birdies sang --
"A bonnie lassie! bonnie lassie!"
I saw her cheeks the briers amang,
I saw her in the very causey.
When mither speir'd me for the text,
Quo' I, "'twas in the books o' Moses."
"The words?" quo' she. I answer'd next --
"Oh! -- sky-blue een an' cheeks o' roses!"

Ah! roguie Love, yer fu' o' pranks,
Nor wait for time an' place befittin';
Ye smit the sodger in the ranks,
The merchant owre the ledger sittin'.
But hear me, lad -- a victim flytes --
As ye regaird yer reputation,
Employ the week as fancy dites,
But cease your Sabbath descration!





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