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Dominies are sae biass’d,

That o’er the dyke themsells they cast,

They drink an’ rant, an’ live sae fast,

This drives them on

To draw a weapon at the last,

That sticks Mess John.

Thus going on from day to day,

Neglecting still to watch and pray,

And teach the little anes A, B, C,

An’ Pater Noster,

Quite ither thoughts our Lettergae

Begins to foster.

For, laying bye baith fear and shame,

They slily venture on that game,

All fours I think they call’t by name,

Baith auld an’ rife,

That in the play Mess John is slain

Wi’ his ain knife.

’Tis kend, therefore I winna strive

My doughty deeds here to descrive,

A lightsome life still did I drive,

Did never itch,

By out an’ in abouts to drive,

For to mak rich.