Page:Rab and Ringan, a tale (3).pdf/5

 a' his siller wi some gambling sparks,

pawn’d for punch his Bible and his sarks;

driven at last to own be had enough,

hame a' rags to haud his father's pleugh.

Poor hum-drum Ringan play’d anither part,

Ringan wanted neithor wit nor art:

mony a far aff place he kent the gate;

deep, deep learned, but unco, unco

kend how mony mile ’twas to the moon,

mony rake wad lave the ocean toom;

pre a' the swallows gaed in time o' snaw,

it gars the thunders roar and tempests blaw;

Here lumps o’ siller grow aneath the grun;’

w a’ this yirth rows round about the sun;

Short, on books sae meikle time he spent,

cou’dna speak o’ aught but ringan kent.

Ane meikle learning wi’ sae little pride,

An gain’d the love o’ a’the kintra side;

l Death, at that time, happ'ning to nip aff

The pairish Minister—a poor dull ca’f,

gan was sought he cou’dna’ say them nay,

and there he’s preaching at this very day.