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Jouk, ay ca'd wiſe behind the hand, The daffing of his doings fand: O'er late he now began to ſee, The ruin of his family: But paſt relief, lair'd in a midden, He is now oblig'd to do her biddin'. Away with ſtrict command he's ſent, To Fairyland to lift the rent, And with him many a catterpillar, To rug frae Birſs and Bawſy ſiller; For her braid table maun be ſerv'd, Tho' Fairy-fowk ſhou'd a' be ſtarv'd. Jouk, thus ſurrounded with his guards, Now plunders hay-ſtacks, barns, and yards, They drive the now't frae Briſtle's fauld, While he can nought but ban and ſcald. Briſtle. Vile ſlave to a hiſſey, ill begotten, By many dads, with claps haſ rotten, We'rt na for honour of my mither, I ſhou'd na think ye were my brither. Jouk. Dear brither, why this rude reflection? Learn to be gratefu' for protection: The Petereneans, bloody beaſts, That gar fouk lick the dowps of prieſts, Elſe on a brander, like a haddock, Be broolied, ſprawling like a paddock, Theſe monſters, lang or now had come, With faggots, taz, and tuck o' drum, And twin'd you of your wealth and lives, Syne, without ſpeering, - your wives Had not the Roſycrucians ſtood, The bulwark of your rights and blood; And