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 15 D'ye think that I wad tell a lie?”

The parchment frae his pouch then drew,

An doon upo' the table threw.

The Laird at this up tae him ran,

An' cried, "Whar did ye get them, man?”

Syne Thrummy tald him a' the tale,

As I've tald you, baith clear an'hale.

The Laird at this was fidgin' fain

That he wad get his rights again ;

An' fifty guineas down did tell,

Besides a present frae himsel'.

Thrummy him thanked, and syne the gowd

Intil a muckle purse he stow'd,

An' cramm'd it in his oxter pouch,

An' syne sought oot his aiken crutch;

"Now, fare-ye-well, I maun awa',

An' see gin I get through the sna'.”

"Weel, fare-ye-well,” replied the Laird.

“But hoo comes it ye haena shar'd

Or gien yer neibor o'the money?"

“Na, by my saul I, Sir," quo' Thrummy,

When I this siller sair did win,

To share wi' him wad be a sin;

Afore that I the ghaist had laid

The nasty beast had the bed."

An' sae my tale I here do end.

I hope no one it will offend.

My Muse will nae assist me langer,

The dorty jade sometimes does anger;

I thought her ance a gay smart lass,

But now she's come till sic a pass

That a' my cudgelling an' whipping

Will hardly wake her out o' sleepin'.

To plague her mair I winna try,

But dight my pen and lay it by.