12 Things at length draw near an ending - Cash runs out; Jean, quite unhappy, Sees that Will is now past mending, Tine's a heart and takes a-drappy !*
Jean, wha lately bore affliction Wi' sae meek and mild an air, Schooled by whisky, learns new tricks soon, Flytes, and storms, and rugs Will's hair. Jean, sae late the tenderest mither, Fond o'ilka dear dawted wean; Now, heart hardened a'thegether, Skelps them round frae morn till e'en. Jean, wha vogie, lo'ed to busk aye In her hame-spun, thrifty wark, Now sells a' her braws for whisky, To her last gown, coat, and sark ! Robin Burns, in mony a ditty, Loudly sings in whisky's praise ; Sweet his sang !--the mair's the pity E'er on it he wared sic lays. O' a' the ills poor Caledonia E'er yet pree'd, or e'er will taste, Brewed in hell's black Pandemonia, Whisky's ill will scaith her maist! Wha was ance like Willie Gairlace- Wha in neighbouring town or farm ? Beauty's bloom shone in his fair face, Deadly strength was in his arm ! When he first saw Jeanie Miller, Wha wi' Jeanie could compare ? Thousands had mair braws and siller, But were ony half so fair ?
- Loses heart and takes to dram-drinking.
