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A
T A L E
OF
THREE BONNETS.
CANTO I.
BARD.
WHEN men of mettle thought it nonſence,
To heed that cleping thing ca'd conſcience
And by free-thinking had the knack,
Of jeering ilka work it ſpake:
And as a learned author ſpeaks,
Imploy'd it like a pair of breaks,
To hide their lewd and naſty ſluices,
Whilk eith ſlipt down for baith theſe uſes.
Then Duniwhiſtle, worn with years,
And gawn the gate of his forbears,
Commanded his three ſons to come,
And wait upon him in his room:
Bade Briſtle ſteek the door: and ſyne,
He thus began———
Duniwhiſle.———Dear bairns of mine,
I quickly maun ſubmit to fate,
And leave you three a good eſtate,
