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A
TALE
O F
THREE BONNETS.
CANTO I.
BARD.
WHen men of mettle thought it nonſenſe,
To heed that cleping thing ca'd conſcience,
And by free-thinking had the knack.
Of jeering every word it ſpake;
And, as a learned author ſpeaks.
Employ’d it as a pair o’ breeks,
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
Duniwhiſtle, Dear bairns of mine,
I quickly maun ſubmit to Fate,
And leave you three a good eſtate,
which
