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21
Now since I’m aff sae mony a mile,
There’s naething got without some toil,
I’ll wait; cross fortune anes may smile,
Come want, come wealth,
An’ tak a pint in the mean while,
To Heilden’s health.
Sae, for a time, friends, fare ye weel
My pot companions, true an’ leel,
I wish you a’ a merry Yule.
Much mirth an’ glee,
Nae mair young Jacks into the creel
That day for me.
Some ither Yule may yet cast up,
When we again shall meet,
To drown our sorrows in a cup,
In case we live to see’t.
THE END
———
ELEGY
ON
MAGGY SIMPSON,
Who died Anno 1711.
AULD Reeky mourn in sable hue,
Let routh o’ tears dreep like May-dew,
To braw tippeny bid adieu
Which we wi’ greed,
Bended as fast as she cou’d brew,
But now she’s dead.
