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A TALE OF

The riven Will and Bonnets twa,
Which makes the third worth nought ava
Our power gi'en up, now I demand,
Your promis'd love, and eke your hand.
Bard. Roſie ſmil'd to ſee the lad outwitted
And Bonnet's to the flames committed,
Immediately an awfu ſound,
As ane wad thought, riſe frae the ground
And ſyne appear'd a ſtalwart Ghaiſt,
Whaſe ſtern and angry looks amaiſt
Unhool'd their ſauls.—ſhaking they ſaw,
Him frae the fire the Bonnets draw;
Then came to Jouk, and with twa drugs,
Encreas'd the length of baith his lugs,
And ſaid—
Ghaist.—Be a' thy days an aſs,
And kackney to this cunning laſs:
But for theſe Bonnets I'll preſerve them,
For bairns unborn that will deſerve them.
Bard. With that he vaniſh'd frae their een
And left poor Jouk wi' breeks not clean.
He ſhakes, while Roſie rants and capers,
And ca's the viſion nought but vapours:
Rubs o'er his cheeks and gab wi' ream,
Till he believes't to be a dream:
Syne to the cloſet leads the way,
To ſoup him up with uſquebae.
Roſie. Now, bonny lad, ye may be free,
To handle ought pertains to me;
And ere the ſun, though he be dry,
Has driven down the weſtlin ſky,
To drink his wamefu' of the ſea,