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Blyth to win aff ſae wi' hale banes, tho' mony had clowr'd pows; And dragl'd ſae 'mang muck and ſtanes they look'd like worry cows. Quo' ſome who maiſt had tint their aynds let's ſee how a' bowls rowa: And quat the brulziement at ance, yon gully is nae mows. Forſooth this day.

Quoth Hutcheon, I am well content, I think ye may do war; To this time towmond l'ſe indent our claiths o' dirt will far; Wi' neve!s I'm amaiſt fawn faint, my chaſſts are dung a char; Then took his bonnet to the bent, and daddit aff the glar, Fou clean that day.

Tam Taylor, wha in time of battle, lay as gin ſome had fell'd him; Got up now wi' an unco rattle, as nane there durſt a quell'd him; Bauld Beſs flew till him wi' a brattle, and ſpite o's teeth ſhe held him. Clofe by the craig, and wi' her fatal knife, fwore ſhe would geld him For peace that day.