Page:Scotland's skaith, or, The history o' Will and Jean.pdf/10

 10 Sees that Will is now past mending, Tynes a heart and taks a---drappy! Ilka drink deserves a posey, Port maks men rude, Claret civil; Beer maks Britons stout and rosy, WHISKY maks ilk wife-a devil. Jean, wha lately bare affliction Wi' sae meek and mild an air, School'd by whisky, learns new tricks soon, Flytes, and storms, and rugs Will's hair. Jean, sae late the tenderest mither, Fond o' ilk dear dauted wean! Now, heart-barden'd a' the gither, Skelps them round frae morn till e'en. Jean, wha vogie, loo'd to busk ay In her hamespun thrifty wark, Now sells a' her braws for Whisky, To her last gown, coat, and sark. Robin Burns, in mony a ditty, Loudly sings in Whisky's praise : Sweet his sang—the mair's the pity E'er on it he war'd sic lays. O' a' the ills poor Caledonia E'er yet pree'd, or e'er will tasts, Brew'd in Hell's black Pandemonia. Whisky's ill will skaith her maist!