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Wi' forks and flails they lent great ſlaps, and flang together like friggs, Wi' bougers of barns they beſt blew caps while they of bairns made briggs. The reir'd raiſe rudely with the raps, when rungs were laid on riggs: The wives came forth with cries & claps ſee where my liking liggs Fou low this day.

They girned and let gird with grains ilk goſſip other griev'd;                  Some ſtrack wi' ſtings, & ſome wi' ſtanes ſome fled and ill miſchiev'd.                  The minſtrel wan between twa wains, that day he wiſely priev'd;                  For he came hame wi' unbruis'd banes, where fighters were miſchiev'd                                    Fou ill that day.

Heich Hutcheon with a hill rice, to redd can thro' them rummil: He maw'd them down like ony mice, he was nae bairy bummil: Though he was wight, he was na wiſe, with ſic jangleurs to jummil: For frae his thumb they dang a ſlice, while he cry'd harlefummil, I'm ſlain this day.