12
They wrought together in a croud;
By this time I was under cloud;
Yet bye an’ bye I understood,
They made one more,
For Jack he tun’d his pipe, an’ loud
Wi’ cries did roar!
Wi’ that they blam’d the Session-Clark;
Where is the lown hid in the dark?
For he’s the father o’ this wark:
Swear to his mither,
He’s just as like him as ae lark
Is like anither.
About me then there was a din,
They sought me out thro’ thick and thin,
Wi’ deil hae her, and deil hae him,
He’s o’er the dyke;
Our Dominie has now dung in
His arse a-peek.
Ye may weel judge I was right sweer,
This uncouth meeting to draw near,
Yet forc’d I was then to appear,
Altho’ perplex’d ;
But listen now, an’ ye shall hear,
The haggs me vex’d.
The carlings Maggy had so cleuked,
Before young Jack was rightly hooked,
They made her twice as little booked,
But to gae on,
O then! how like a fool I looked,
When I saw John
