The poem
SHREWD Willie Smellie to Crochallan came; The old cock’d hat, the grey surtout the same; His bristling beard just rising in its might, ’Twas four long nights and days to shaving night: His uncomb’d grizzly locks, wild staring, thatch’d A head for thought profound and clear, unmatch’d; Yet tho’ his caustic wit was biting-rude, His heart was warm, benevolent, and good.