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 The Parchments frae his pouch then drew, And down upon the table threw. The Laird at this up to him ran, And cried, whar did you get them, man? Syne Thrummy tald him a‘ the tale, As I‘ve tald you, baith clear and hale. The Laird at this M as fidgin fain, That he had gat his Rights again : And fifty guineas down did tell, Besides a present frae himsel. Thrummy thanked him, an1 syne thegowd Intil a muckle purse he stow'd. And cramm'd it in his oxter-pouch, And syne sought out his aiken crutch: And fare-ye-weel, I maun awa, And see gin I get thro the sna ; Weel, fare ye weel, replied the Laird : But how comes it ye hanna* shar'd Or gien your neibor u‘ the money? Na, by my said I, Sir, quo* Thrummy, When 1 the siller, Sir, did win, (To ha‘e done this wad be a sin)’ For M'hile the Gliaist was being laid, The coward lay trembling in his bed. And sae my tale I here d^ end, I hope no one it will offend : My muse Mill na assist me langer, The dorty jade sometimes does anger, 1 thought her ance a gay Smart lass But now she s come to sic a pass, That a’ my cudgeling and weeping, Will hardly wake her out o' sleeping; To plague her I winna try, But dight my pen and lay it by.