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Out on ye! clamouring round me with your wants, Like daws about the ruined turret! think ye That II am distracted with you all!

And with some cups of good Ferntosh besides.

Howe'er the shieling herdsmen may be lodged, I have provided for the Lowland strangers Right handsomely.

The bed of state, no doubt, is for the lady, And for the gentleman the arras chamber.

Thou art all wrong: the arras is so ragged, And bat holes in the cornice are so rife, That Lady Achinmore bade me prepare His lodging in the north side of the tower, Beside Dunarden's chamber.

They leave the house to-morrow, waiting only To take a social breakfast. My best wine And good Ferntosh must be upon the table, To which the beef and fish, and old ewe cheese Will give a relish. And your pretty playthings Of china saucers, with their fairy cups,