8
Unto ilk man a bottle‘s plac‘d,
In silent expectation,
That they wad better be in haste
After so much oration;
It‘s just to be, or not to be,
To take an unkenn‘d doze,
Short-sighted man can hardly see
An inch before his nose.
I‘ll ask a favour frae ilk man,
And ye will surely grant it.
To drink it up as quick‘s you can,
Nor take time to decant it;
Like bugle-horns then in a raw,
They glower up to the lift,
And it was hardly down when twa
O‘ them began to rift.
That‘s curious stuff, it's made me weel,
I ne‘er drank this before,
Wi‘ that the Soda Watei chiel
Got up wi‘ sic a roar;
I‘m gone, I‘m poison‘d, fatal drink !
For me there is no cure,
When o‘er his cheeks, black streams
Ran gushing to the floor. [like ink,
He held the bottle up to break,
Nae langer life expeckin,
Syne read the label round it's neck,
The real Japan Blackin;
He's ill before, but now he's worse,
Wi' gut and ga‘ he‘s partin,
And ‘twixt ilk boak he gaed a curse
Against real Day and Martin.
