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Then dool an’ sorrow interveen’d ; For Jack nae langer could be screen’d, My lass upon her breast she loan’d, An’ gae a skirl. The canny wires came there conveen’d, An’ in a whirl.

They wrought together in a crowd ; By this time I was under cloud ; Yet byo and byo I understood. They made one more, For Jack he tun’d his pipe, and loud Wi’ cries did roar.

Wi’ that they blam’d the Session-Clark ; Where is the lown hid in the dark ? For he’s the father o’ this wark : Swear to his mither, He’s just as like him as ae lark Is like anither.

About me then there was a din, They sought me out through thick an’ thin, Wi’ deil hae her, an deil hae him, He’s o’er the dyke ; Our Dominie has now dung in His arse a pike.

Ye may weel judge I was right sweer, This uncouth meeting to draw near. Yet forc’d I was thou to appear, Altho’ perplex’d; But listen how, and ye shall hear. The hags me vex’d.