But now and then when they did need him
A ſupper and a pint they gied him,
That done, they hae nae mair to ſay,
And ſcarcely ken him the neiſt day.
Poor fallow, now this mony a year,
With ſome faint hope, and routh of fear,
He had been wreſtling with his fate,
A drudge to Joukum and his mate;
While Briſtle ſaves his manly look,
Regardleſs baith of Roſe and Jouk;
Maintains right queitly 'yond the cairns,
His honour, conſcience, wife and bairns,
Jouk and his rumelgary wife,
Drive on a drunken gaming life,
'Cauſe ſober they can get no reſt,
For Nick and Duniwhiſtle's ghaiſt,
Wha in the garrets often tooly,
And ſhore them with a bloody gully.
Thus have I ſung in hamlet rhyme,
A ſang that ſcorns the teeth of time,
Yet modeſtly I hide my name,
Admiring virtue mair than fame.
But tent ye wha deſpiſe inſtruction,
And give my wark a wrong conſtruction,
Frae 'hind my curtain, mind I tell ye,
I'll ſhoot a ſatire thro' your belly;
But wha with havins jees his Bonnet,
And ſays, thanks ty'e for your Sonnet,
Ye ſhanna want the praiſes due,
To generoſity. Adieu.
F Ι Ν Ι S.
