7
Rigwoodie hare wad ſpean a foal,
Lonping and flinging on a crummock,
I wonder did na turn thy ſtomach -
But I'am kend what was what fu' brawly,
There was ae winsome wench and wally,
That night inlisted in the core,
(Lang after kend on Carrick shore;
For mony a beasi to dead ſhe ſhot,
And perish'd meny a bonny boat,
And shook baith meikle corn an' bear,
And kept the country side in fear—)
Her cutty ſark o' Paisley harn,
That while a Jassie she had worn,
In longitude tho' surely scanty,
It was her best, and she was vaunty—
Ah, little thought thy reverend Grannie,
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi' twa pund Scors, ('twas a' their riches)
Wad ever grace a dance of witches!
But hear my muse her wing maun cour,
Sic flights are far beyond ber power;
To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
(A souple jade she was and strang)
And how Tam stood like ane bet witched,
And thought his vera een enriched :
Even Satan glowr'd and fig'd fu' fain,
And hotch'd, and blew wi' might as' main ;
Till first a caper—syne anither—
Tam loft his reason a' thegether.
Then roars out— Weel done Cutty sark! "
And in an inetant all is dark,
And scarcely te has Maggieraillca, 16-
Till out the bellish legion faillied ITIL
A: bees biz out wi' angry fyke,
