6
Straught to the kirk he took his way,
The pu‘pet speel‘d-sung psalms-did pray.
When preachin', in a little space,
He wished to wipe his soncy face;
But mony a ane could scarce behave,
When he brought furth the ⟨auld⟩ sark sleeve
Its curlie edges he ne'er heeded,
But gart it do the turn he needed:
Bauldly the people he addressed,
And earnest hame the matter pressed—
Meanwhile exposing in his neeve,
The dirty, ragged, auld sark sleeve!
But on a kittle point he landed,
Which chosen scripture proofs demanded;
He then the Bible grippet quickly,
To trace the puzzlin' topic strictly—
While he wi' looks composed and grave,
Did lay aside the auld sark sleeve!
Upo' the pu'pit edge he laid it,
Till through the Bible he pervadet,
Explaining the dark critic point,
Some heretic put out o‘joint.
This doon—rail'd at the erroneous knave,
An' caught again the auld sark sleeve!
Ance mair he held it up to view,
An' waken'd on the points anew—
Zealous an' warmly he extended,
Till the discourse he fully ended:
So when the subject he did leave,
He, lastly—pouch’d the auld sark sleeve!
