Page:Dominie depos'd, or, Some reflections on his intrigue with a young lass.pdf/5

( 5 ) For, hark, I'll tell you what they thick, Since I left handling pen an' ink, Wae worth ther weary ſoup o' drink He lik'd fae weel, He drank it a', left not a clink His throat to ſwill.

He lik'd, ftill fitting on his doup, To view the pint or cutty ſtoup, And ſometimes laſſes overcoup Upo' their keels, This made the lad at length to loup, And tak his heels.

Then was it not a grand preſumption, To ca' him Doctor o' the Function? He dealt too much in barley unction For his profeſſion, He never took a good injuncion Frae Kirk or Seſſion.

An' to attend, he was not willing, His School, ſae lang's he had a ſhilling, But lov'd to be where there was filling Good punch or ale; For him to riſe was juſt like killing, Or firſt to fail.

His fiſhing-wand, his ſneeſhing-box, A fooling-piece, to ſhoot muir-cocks, An' hunting hares thro' craigs and rocks, This was his game; Still left the young anes, ſo the fox Might worry them.