Page:Horse of knowledge and his water box.pdf/7

7 Stan’ round, ye cripple cadger brutes,

I downa’ ’bide to see your snouts,

Your spavy’d shanks an’ scabbed cutes,

Disgrace my city,

Your jiggan cars an’ rotten butts,

I scorn to pity.

My water-chest of azure blue,

And carriage of the scarlet hue,

Knit by the powers of nail and screw,

Chain, bar an’ rod,

Wheels to their iron axles true,

Stout, large an’ broad,

Round as the moon, bright as the sun,

Swift as the sweeping, whirling win’,

And pond’rous as the rocks of whin,

Fierce as the faggot,

Will bruise auld baucey, slade an’ tun,

Like worm or maggot.