Page:Tale of three bonnets (NLS104187034).pdf/20

20 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's now oblig'd to do her biddin'.

Awa' wi' ſtrict command he's ſent,

To Fairyland to lift the rent,

And with him mony a catterpiller,

To rug frae Briſs and Bawſy filler;

For her braid table maun be ſerv'd,

Though Fairy-fowk ſhould a' be ſtarv'd.

Jouk thus ſurrounded with his guards,

Now plunder 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 mony dads, with clap ha'f-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 gars fowks lick the dowps of prieſts,

Elſe on a brander, like a haddock,

Be broiled, ſprawling like a paddock,

Theſe monſters lang e'er 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;