CANTO III.
Bard.
NOw Sol wi' his lang whip gae cracks
Upon his neighering cooſers backs,
To gar them tak th' Olympian Brae,
Wi' a cart lade of bleezing day;
The country hind ceaſes to ſnore,
Bangs fred his bed, unlocks the door,
His bladder tooms, and gies a rift,
Then tentily ſurveys the lift,
And, weary of his wife and flaes,
To their imbrace prefers his elaes.
Scarce had the lark forſook her neſt,
When Jouk, wha had got little reſt,
For thinking on his plot and laſſie,
Got up to gang and deal wi' Bawſie:
Away faſt o'er the bent he gade,
And fand him dozing on bis bed,
His blankets creiſhy, foul his ſark,
His curtains trim'd with ſpider's wark;
Soot draps hang frae his roof and kipples,
His floor was o' tobacco ſpittles:
Set on the antlers of a deer,
Hang mony an auld claymore and ſpear,
With coat of iron and target truſty,
Inch thick of dirt and unco ruſty:
Enough appear'd to ſhow his Billy,
That he was lazy, poor and ſilly,
And wadna mak ſo great buſtle,
About his Bonnet as did Briſtle.
