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VI.

QUOTH I, With a' my heart, I'll do't,

'I'll get my Sunday's fark

on,

An' meet you on the holy fpot;

Faith we'fe hae fine remarkin!'

Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time,
An' foon I made me ready;

For roads were clad, frae fide to fide,

Wi' monie a wearie body,

In droves that day.

VII.

HERE, farmers gafh, in ridin graith,

Gaed hoddin by their cotters;

There, fwankies young, in braw braid-claith,

Are fpringing owre the gutters,"

The laffes, fkelpin barefit, thrang,

In filks an fcarlets glitter;

Wi'

Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in monie a whang,

An' farls bak'd wi butter,

Fu' crump that day.

VIII.

WHEN by the plate we fet our nofe,

Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence,

A greedy glow'r Black Bonnet throws,
An' we maun draw our tippence.

Then in we go to fee the show,

On ev'ry fide they're gath'rin;

Some carryin dails fome chairs an' ftools,

An' fome are busy bleth'rin

Right loud that day.

IX.

HERE ftands a fhed to fend the fhow'rs,

An' fcreen our countra gentry,

There

There, racer Jess, an' twa three wh-res,

Are blinkin at the entry.

Here fits a raw o' tittlin jads,

Wi' heaving breaft an' bare neck;

An' there, a batch o' wabfter lads,
Blackguarding frae K*******ck

For fun this day.

X.

HERE, fome are thinkin on their fins,

An' fome upo' their claes;

Ane curfes feet that fyl'd his fhins,

Anither fighs an' prays:

On this hand fits a chofen fwatch,

WP fcrew'd-up, grace-proud faces;

On that, a fet o' Chaps, at watch,

Thrang winkin on the laffes

To chairs that day.

XI.

XI.

O HAPPY is that man, an' bleft!

Nae wonder that it pride him!

Wha's ain dear lafs, that he likes beft,
Comes clinkin down befide him!

Wi' arm repos'd on the chair-back,
He fweetly does compofe him;

Which, by degrees, flips round her neck,

An's loof upon her bofom

Unkend that day.

XII.

Now a' the congregation o'er

Is filent expectation;

For ****** fpeels the holy door,

Wi' tidings o d-mn-t--n.

Should Hornie, as in ancient days, 'Mang fons o' G-prefent him,

The

The vera fight o'

****** *s face,

To's ain het hame had fent him

Wi' fright that day.

XIII.

HEAR how he clears the points o' Faith.

Wi' rattlin an' thumpin!

Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,
He's ftampin, an he's jumpin!

His lengthen'd chin, his turn'd up fnout,
His eldritch fqueel an' geftures,

O how they fire the heart devout,
Like cantharidian plafters,

On fic a day!

XIV.

BUT hark! the tent has chang'd its voice;

There's peace an' reft nae langer;

For

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