Page:Merry Muses of Caledonia.djvu/110

( 104 )  For were ye on my saddle set, An' were ye weel girt in my gear, Gin the wind o' my a—e blaw ye out o' my c—t, Ye'll never be reckoned a man o' weir.

He placed his Jacob whare she did piss, An' his b—ks whare the wind did blaw. And he grippet her fast by the gushet o' her a—e, An' he gae her c—t the common law.





