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But hetrer her twa thouſand Mark,
Had been row'd up intill her Sark;
Sew'd in the tail o't.
And Mr Burgh of Toſſna Mill;
A hale blue fatt he's garr'd him ſpill,
And in a crack:
The clivereſt way that e'er you ſaw,
Some magic how, converted' a'.
His white to black.
Some ſays, Rob Carrick of Klldees,
Will need to fell Kincairn trees.
With trunk and bark,
Baith Birk and Elm, Aſh and Aik;
To keep his credit, now at ſtake,
W'Sandy's wark.
From William Scott, he drain's his liquor,
in Hogheads, to a quartin Bicker,
As with a charm,
Nor will the Vintiner refuſe,
He taught him a new way to uſe,
Quickning for Barm.
That farmer Butcher, David Squire,
For ſeventy pounds of prentice hire,
He gave him Druggs,
To ſave himn whittle pains,) wherein,
By art anointing, a the ſkin:
Comes or'e the Lugs-
But by unſkill'd ideas, forc'd,
Imagination to the worſt,
Upon himſelf,
Inſtaed of taking off the ſkin,
It's a hidebound and cloſe within,
And's dry'd thy tell.
But to enumerate their Names,
Wha kens the power of Sandys ſchemes,
T'wad tak a day,
Yet ſure I am, I notic'd had,
O nane that for his fa' was glad,
But one (they ſay,)
