Page:Tale of three bonnets (NLS104187034).pdf/13

Canto III. 

OW Sol wi' his lang whip gae cracks,

Upon his nighering cooſers' backs,

To gar them tak the 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 ſurveys 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:

Awa' faſt o'er the bent he gade,

And fand him dozing in his bed,

His blankets creiſhy, foul his ſark,

His curtains trim'd wi' 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 ſilly,

And wadna mak fae great a buſtle,

About his Bonnet as did Briſtle: