Page:A tale of Three bonnets(NLS104186701).pdf/13

13 CANTO III.

BARD.

Now Sol wi' his lang whip gae cracks,

Upon his nighering cooaers' oacks,

To gar them tak the Olympian brae,

With a cart load of bleezing day:

The country hind ceases to snore,

Bangs frae his bed, unlocks the door,

His bladder rooms, and gies a rift,

Then surveys the lift,

And weary of his wife and fleas,

To their embrace prefers his claes;

had the lark forsook her nest,

Whan Jouk wha had got little rest,

For thinking on his plot and lassie,

Got up to gang and deal wi' Bawsy:

Awa a fast o'er the bent he gade,

And fand him dozing in his bed,

His blankets crecshy, foul his sark,

For curtains trim'd wi' spiders' wark;

drape hang trae his roof and kipples,

His floor was a tobacco spittles:

on the antlets of a deer,

money an auld claymore and spear,

With coats o' mail and targets trusty,

thick of dirt and unco rusty;

{{reconstruct|Enough appeard to shew his billy,

{{reconstruct|That}} he was lazy poor and silly,

{{reconstruct|And}} wadna mah sae great a bustle,

About his bonaet as did Bristle,