Page:Four funny tales.pdf/24



Till he was drawing near the door, Then to eſcape the cudgel ran But was not miſs'd by the good man, Wha lent him on his neck a lounder, That gart him o'er the threshold founder. Darkneſs foon hid him frae their fight; Ben flew the miller in a fright: 'I trow,' quoth he,- 'I laid well on; But wow he's like our own Meſs Johnǃ'