17
I tald them, then, it was but wicked,
To add affliction to the afflicted;
But to it they were so addicted,
They said therefore
The clout about me should be pricked
At the Kirk door.
But yet yet nor Kirk nor Cons’terie,
Quoth they, can ask the taudry fee;
Tell me in words just twa or three,
The deil a plack,
For tary-breeks shou’d ay gae free,
An’ he’s the Clark.
I then was dumb; how I was griev’d!
What wou’d I gien to be reliev’d!
They us’d me waur than I had thiev’d,
Some strain’d their lungs,
And very loud they me mischiev’d
Wi’ their ill tongues.
Had you been there to hear an’ see,
The manner how they guided me;
An’ greater pennance wha cou’d dree !
A Lettergae,
Wi’ sic a pack confin’d to be,
On gude Yule-day.
Young Jack wi’ skirls he pierc’d the skies,
I pray’d that death might close his eyes,
But did not meet with that surprise,
To my regret,
Sae had nae help, but up and tries
Het drinks to get.
