Page:Canty carly, or, The raveled bridal of Auchronie.pdf/7

 7 To try out 'er the hix To bid it makes a ravel, And now we're fit for travel, We have no gout nor gravel And nane has better will. Skipper with your art and skill, You'll steer our course straight oʻer the Ye's get a warin pint and giil, (hill Upon Auchronie' green; Says he. I'll see you righted, Since ye are so benighted, I think I will be knighted, To gang wi' you my leen. His caurse he steers, an' wadna yide, To wind or weather in the field, But when he got his humours quield, He did the heart a' tyne; He was na now gallantish, Nor frush and roving rantish, He said he was growing fantiek And lost the fusion fyne. Upon the hill of Auchinclech, He gasps and glours, and with a pech, Says look, the road leads thro the laigh, So I'll try for hame: A uchronie ye can see now, The bride says, on this be now? With that she's like to flee now, I wat she wasna lame. She shortly chaps at her ain door, The bridegroom teits through a boer, And tho' he was near four score, Lap like a spaining lamb; With that he gae a golly, I see twa angels holy,