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Our vera fauls does harrow,

Wi' fright that day.


A VAST, unbottom'd, boundless pit,

Fill'd fou o’lowin brunstane,

Wha's ragin flame, an' scorchin heat,

Wad melt the hardest whun-ftane !

The half asleep start up wi' fear,

An' think they hear it roarin, When presently it does appear,

'Twas but some neebor snorin

Aleep that day.


'Twan be owre lang a tale, to tell

How monie stories past,

F 3


Shakespeare's Hamlet:

An' how they crouded to the yill,

When they were a' dismist :
How drink gaed round, in cogs an' caups,

Amang the furms and benches ;

An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps,

Was dealt about in lunches,

An' dawds that day.


In comes a gaucie, gaih Guidwife,

An' sits down by the fire,

Syne draws her kebbuck an'her knife,

The lasses they are shyer.

The auld Guidmen, about the grace,

Frae fide to side they bother, Till fome ane by his bonnet lays,

An An' gi’es them't like a tether,

Fu' lang that day.


WEASUCKS ! for him that gets nae lass,

Or lafles that hae naething!

Sma' need has he to say a grace,

Or melvie his braw claithing! O Wives be mindfu', ance yoursel

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How bonie lads ye wanted,

An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel,


Let lafles be affronted

On fic a day!


Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattlin tow,

Begins to jow an' croon;


Some swagger hame, the best they dow,

Some wait the afternoon.

At slaps the billies halt a blink,

Till lasses strip their shoon :

Wi' faith an' hope, an' love and drink,

They're a' in famous tune,

For crack that day.


How monie hearts this day converts

O' Sinners and o' Laffe'!

Their hearts o'stane gin night are gane,

As saft as ony flesh is.

There's some are fou o' love divine;

There's some are fou o' brandy;


An' monie jobs that day begin,
May end in Houghmagandie

Some ither day,


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