The f?idler rak'd l:er fore and aft Behint th? chicken ca,vim, Her lord, a wight o' Homer's crY, Tho' limpin wi' ? spavin, He hirpl'd up, and lap lika ddt, . And ahor'd them dainty Davie. O' boot that night. He was a ease-defying blade As ever Bacchus listed; Tho' Fortune sair upon him 1?!, His heart she ever miss'd it. He h? nae wish, but--to be glad, Nor want, 5ut--when he thirsted.* He hat?! nought but--4o be sad, And thus the M&?e m?gemted ? san? that 'n? .?IR. T?' For a' tsar, and m' t?t.' I-?M a B?d of no regard Wi' ?ntle folk, an' a' that; But Homer-hke the glo?an byke, Er? to? to to? I draw ?t. ?o?u? F? a' t?t, ? a' ?ve lo? ?t' ?e, ? ?a be?n', P?e wife ?gh f? a' that. IL I never drank the M?s' ?k, C?talia'9 b?, ? a' that; ?t tbore it strew, a? ?chly ?, My Horton I ?' that. For a' that,
�
