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 He’ll mak’ but a sober ha'f-marrow.

Ye’ll best rue before you be bound."

Tho' Geordy be laird of a house,

And brags o’ his kye and his pelf,

Tho’ warld’s gear I be right scant o',

A fig for’t as lang’s I’ve my health:

It ance I l were kippi'd wi’ Annie,

She’ll seldom ha’e cause to complain,

We’ll jog on through life ay right canny,

When I get a wife o' my ain.

But if that my Annie prove faithless,

And marry before I return,

I‘ll no like a cuif greet about her,

Not yet for ae minute will mourn,

Awa‘ straight to some ither beauty,

Without loss of time I will hie,

And shew to the lasses I‘m careless,

Unless they're as willin' as I. 



DEAR Doctor, be clever, and fling off your beaver,

Come bleed me, and blister me, don’t be so slow,

I'm sick, I'm exhausted, my schemes they are blasted,

And all driven heels o'er-head, Doctor Monro