For all the Wrak a Wretch can pack, And in his Bags embrace, Zit Deid fall tak him be the Back, And gar him cry Alace! Then fall he fwak, away with Lak, And wate not to what Place, Then will they mak, at him a Knack, With ane O and an I, Qubyle we haif Tyme and Space, Mak we gude Cheir, quhy!e we are heir, And thankful be for Grace. III. WERE there a King to rax and ring, Amang Gude-fallows crownd, Wretches wald wring, and mak Murning, For Dule they fould be drownd. Quha finds a Dring, or auld or zing, Now let us fing, our Cares to ding, And mak a gladfome Sound, With an O and ane I: Now are we further bound, Drink thou to me, and I to thee, IV. QUEA underftude, fuld have his Gude, Sum in thair Mude they wald ga wid, And die lang or thair Day; Not worth a Hude, or an auld Snude Thou fhall bear hence away; Wretch be the Rude, now to conclude, Full few fall for the pray, With an O and ane I, Gude Fallows as langs we may, Be merry and free, fyne blyth let us be, And fing on tway and tway. Quod Jo. BLYTH. The End of the first Volume. The Battle of Harlaw, 78 Wyfe Sayings. The Fenziet Frier of Tungland, Tydings frae the Seffion, A General Satyre, The Complaint to his Miftreft, Invective againft Mouth Thanklefs, ༡༥ 93 102 107 108 112 115 118 123 120 |