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　　Impromptu Lines To Captain Riddell

　　On Returning a Newspaper.

　　Your News and Review, sir.

　　I've read through and through, sir,

　　With little admiring or blaming;

　　The Papers are barren

　　Of home-news or foreign,

　　No murders or rapes worth the naming.

　　Our friends, the Reviewers,

　　Those chippers and hewers,

　　Are judges of mortar and stone, sir;

　　But of meet or unmeet,

　　In a fabric complete,

　　I'll boldly pronounce they are none, sir;

　　My goose-quill too rude is

　　To tell all your goodness

　　Bestow'd on your servant, the Poet;

　　Would to God I had one

　　Like a beam of the sun,

　　And then all the world, sir, should know it! Poems and Songs of Robert Burns