Put upon a Post

leading to the Tar-Work at

Muirkirk, 1786.

HALT, Passengers, come here and see
What Fortune has bestow'd on me:
A Field run o'er with moss and glaur,
Yet in it's bowl's is Coal-Pit Tar;
Not only Tar but Paint and Oil,
And Salts to make one spout a mile;
Magnesia, and G-d knows what,
Are all extract from my Coal-Pit.

A Noble Lord, of Ayr-shire blood,
Owns all my minerals are good;
Both Coal and Lime, and Ir'n and Clay,
More rich than on the banks of Spey.
May the great Lord for ever shine,
First Chymist of the Scottish line!

Sure Nature nothing made in vain,
Though man must toil with grief and pain.
That worthy Lord, with Art Divine,
Doth honour to all Ayr-shire men;
Which shows that Nature still intends,
Ev'n though 'tis late, to make amends;
And cause MUIRKIRK surmount the globe,
Before that she give her last throb!


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