Page:Tale of three bonnets (NLS104185475).pdf/13

13 Canto III. THREE BONNETS.

Bard. NOW Sol wi' kis lang whip gae cracks, Upon his nighering coofers' backs, To gar them tak th' Olympian Brae, Wi' a cart lade of bleezing day: The country hind ceaſes to ſnore, Bangs frae his bed, unlocks the door, His bladder tooms, and gies a rift, Then tentily furveys the lift, And, weary of his wife and flaes, To their embrace prefers his claes. Scarce had the lark forſook her neſt, Whan Jouk, wha had got little reſt, For thinking on his plot and laſſie, Got up to gang and deal wi' Bawſy : Away faſt o'er the bent he gade, And fand him dozing on his bed, His blankets crieſhy, foul his fark, His curtains trim'd with ſpider's wark; Soot draps hang frae his roof and kipples, His floor was a' tobacco ſpittles: Yet on the antlets of a deer, Hang mony an auld claymore and ſpear, With coat of iron and target truſty, Inch thick of dirt and unco ruſty: Enough appear'd to ſhew his Billy, That he was lazy, poor and filly, And wadna mak ſo great a buſtle, About his Bonnet as did Briſtle. Jouk