AYE, MON, IT'S TRUE
Aye mon, it's true; I'm no that weel.
Close prisoner to my lord the de'il,
As weak 's a bit o' aipple peel,
Or ingan parin',
Packed like a codfish in a creel,
I lie disparin'.
Mon, it's a cur-ous thing to think
How bodies sleep and eat and drink;
I'm no that weel, but micht be waur
An' doubt na mony bodies are.
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