Page:Fasten's-day, a poem, or, Kilmarnock races, and frolics, on that celebrated day.pdf/6

 6 Clear, clear the course, for nine are staked, Lud! cries a lass, ane's stripping naked; The muckle de'il stap out your e'en, The nan las on his good arkeen; I ken him weel, an ugly stirk, It's king, a fellow from Muirkirk. Wha do I see, as I'm a sinner, Bridgeton's here, the famous rinner. Stand still ye jades, and keep your place, I'm sure we'll ha'e an excellent race. Now round the crowd a' tak their station, Stretching their necks in expectation, When aff at once the racers go, The knowing ones first tak it slow, But every bout they make it quicker, And in.at last come with a bicker; They all then do their uttermost Wha first shall touch the winning post. Waes me for him that lays behind, Like some old nag for want of wind; And far more wae for him that fell, And hurt and almost brain'd himsel', But, lack-a-day, there's nae compassion, To hoot misfortune's all the fashion, On life's high road but get a sprain, There's few will help you up again.