E'en downright honest an e sa'd.
At Pleugh ho wou'd na quat the Gad,
To ony man
In field or yard he cou'd hae saw'd
Naething came wrang,
And for King he woud hae fought
Though like a cow he soud been bought,
Nae money wou'd him bysa'd wrought.
He was sae true,
A better Lad you coudna sought.
The Warl through,
When he was upo' his Death bed
The very last word that he said,
Was mind the poor beast I have fed.
An ridden on,
He was as good as e'er was laid
A Leg upon.
At his contract fan you have laught
An scritch an cry'd gin we were daft,
Then to his memory take a waught,
Of ale or beer,
And drivt about sae very aft,
Till you can't steer.
Critick forgive me for this ryme,
I had na better at the time,
But buy it first and whan you read it,
As it deserves then burn or spread it.
FINIS.