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With kittle words thrice gave command, That done, with look baith learn’d and grave. Said, ‘ Now ye’ll get what ye would have; Twa bottles of as nappy liquor, As ever grac’d a horn or bicker. Behind the ark that hads your meal, Ye’ll find twa standing corkit weel. He said and fast the miller flew. And frae their nest the bottles drew; Then first the scholar’s health he toasted, Wha’s art had gart him feed on roafted, His father's neist—and a the rest Of his good friends that wish’d him best, Which were o’er langsome at the time. In a stort tale to put to rhyme.

Thus while the miller and the youth, Were blythly flockening o’ their drouth, Bess fretting, scarcely held frae greeting, The priest inclos’d flood vex’d and sweating.

O wow, said Hab, if ane might spier, Dear Master James, wha brought our cheer. Sic laits to us appear lae awfu’, We hardly think your learning lawfu’.

To bring your doubts to a conclusion, Says James, ken I’m a Rosicrucian; Ane of that set that never carries On traffic with black deils or faries: There’s mony a spirit that’s no a deil, That constantly around us wheel,