This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1838 edition. Excerpt: ... For this they bothert me right sair, But yet I didna muckle care, But ha'flin's thought our need was mair Ere death did come, To get us cleari'd frae every skair O' sins vile scum. A' ye who are on pleasure bent The mart's fate is like yours, tak tent, There'll things turn up ye little kent A secret ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1838 edition. Excerpt: ... For this they bothert me right sair, But yet I didna muckle care, But ha'flin's thought our need was mair Ere death did come, To get us cleari'd frae every skair O' sins vile scum. A' ye who are on pleasure bent The mart's fate is like yours, tak tent, There'll things turn up ye little kent A secret sin, Like his, oh may they a' be sent Aff wi' the skin. EPITAPH ON HIS BONES AMONG GRASS. "The very turf on which we tread once lived." Stop, view these bones at this dyke back, Last year this very grass did tap, Now humbly seeks its covering hap, Wi' little pride, May let us see if time we lack, "What ills betide. As unconcern'd as frae the stake This ox was taen to meet his fate, Is mony a time push'd out o' date The weel-kent name. And hurried in their present state To their lang hame. Let age that leans out o'er a staff, And youth that in their follies laugh, Mind some's to be consumed like chaff, That nought will slocken; And surely when the head's taen aff, It's past a' jokin. BURNING O' THE KILN. Ae winter day the wind blew high, An' clankin' gaed the mill, The corn, in order it to dry, Lay stovin' on the kiln. The seeds they did sae bleeze an' burn, An' dried the corn sae fast, The miller ran the corn to turn, An' swore the kiln was daft. But things gaed on wi' o'er great speed, An' angert sair the deil; Bein feart we'd hae o'er muckle bread, An' wadna need to stea'. I daresay some auld witch was dead, Or some vexatious cause, Made Boreas blaw wi' sic a speed, (I wish he'd rent his jaws) Till by the fire's unceasin heat, The corn did fuff an' crack; Which drew a train o' fire sae fleet, That quickly catch'd the thack. The miller chanc'd the kiln to look Wi' little fear or dread, An' saw the reek gaun rowin out Like sacks frae the lum...
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Add this copy of Poems, Songs, Anecdotes, &C to cart. $54.95, good condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2016 by Palala Press.
