Page:Dominie depos'd, or, Some reflections on his intrigue with a young lass and what happened thereupon.pdf/24

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Some ſaid it was the pith of broom, That ſhe ſtow'd in her maſking loom, Which in our heads rais'd ſic a ſoom, Or ſome wild ſeed, Which aft the chappen ſtoup did toom, But fill'd our head.

But now ſince 'tis ſae that we muſt Not in the beſt ale put our truſt, But when we're auld return to duſt, Without remead; Why ſhould we tak it in diſguſt, Since Maggy's dead.

O' wardly comforts ſhe was rife, An' liv'd a lang an' hearty life, Right free o' care, or toil, or ſtrife, Till ſhe was ſtale; An' kend to be a canny wife At brewing ale.

Then fareweel Maggy, dowſe an' fell, O' brewers a' you bore the bell; Let a' your goſſips yelp an' yell, An' without ſead, Gueſs whither ye're in heav'n or hell, They're ſure ye're dead.

E P I T A P H.

O RARE MAGGY SIMPSON.

F I  N  I  S.