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D Ε Α Τ Η

AND

DOCTOR HORNBOOK,

А

TRUE STORY.

SOME books are lies frae end to end, ,
And some great lies were never penn'd:
Ev'n Ministers they hae been kenn'd,

In holy rapture,

A

A roufing whid, at times, to vend,

And nail't wi' Scripture. But this that I am gaun to tell, Which lately on a night befel,

Is just as true's the Deil's in h--11

Or Dublin city :

That e'er he nearer comes oursel

'S a muckle pity.

a

THE Clachan yill had made me canty,

I was na fou, but just had plenty ;
I stacher'd whyles, but yet took tent ay

To free the ditches;

An' hillocks, ftanes, an' buhes, kenn'd ay

Frae ghaists an' witches.

The rising Moon began to glowr
The diflant Cumnock hills out-owre!

Το

To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r,

I set mysel;

But whether the had three or four,

I cou'd na tell.

I was come round about the hill,

And todlin down on Willie's mill,

Setting my staff wi' a' my skill,

W

To keep me ficker ;

Tho' leeward whyles, against my will,

I took a bicker,

I THERE wi' Something did forgather,
That pat me in an eerie fwither;
An awfu' fcythe, out-owre ae shouther,

Clear dangling, hang;

A three-tae'd leifter on the ither

Lay, large an' lang.

Its ftature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa.
The queerest shape that e’er I saw,

For fient a wame it had ava ;

And then its fhanks,

They were as thin, as sharp an' [ma'

As cheeks o' branks,

Guid-een,' quo' I; Friend ! hae ye been mawin,

• When ither folk are busy sawin *?'

It seem'd to mak a kind o' stan,'

But naething spak; At length, says I, 'Friend, whare ye gaun,

Will

'.

ye go back!

It spak right howe,-'My name is Death,
• But be na’ fley'a.'-Quoth I, 'Guid faith,
VOL. I.

G

Ye're

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* This recounter happened in seed-time, 1785.

• Ye're may be come to stap my breath;

“But tent me billie;

. I red ye weel, tak care o skaith,

See there's a gully!'

Gudeman,' quo' he, 'put up your whittle,
I'm no design’d to try its mettle ;
But if I did, I wad be kittle

"To be mislear'd,

• I wad na mind it, no that spittle

"Out-owre my beard.'

Weel, weel!' says I, 'a bargain be't;

a ; Come, gies your hand, an' sae we're gree't ;

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We'll ease our fhanks an' tak a seat,

Come, gies your news;

This

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