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Syne ilka thing gaed arſe our head, chandlers, boord. ſtools, and ſtowps, Flew thro' the houſe wi' muckle ſpeed, and there was little hopes, But there has been ſome ill-done deed, they gat ſic thraw at coups; But a' the ſkaith that chanc'd indeed, was only on their doups Wi' fa's that day.

Sae whiles they toulzied, whiles they drank, till a' their ſenſe was ſnor'd;                    And in their maws there was nae mank, upon the ſurms ſome ſnor'd;                    Ithers frae aff the bunkers ſank, wi' een like collops ſcor'd                    Some ram'd their noddles wi' a clank, e'en like a thick ſcul'd lord, On poſts that day.

The young goodman to bed did clim, his dear the door did lock in: Crap down ayont him, and the rim o'er wame he clap'd his dock on, She fand her lad was not in trim, and be this ſame good token, That ilka member, lith and limb, was oſuple like a doken, 'Bout him that day. F I N I S