22
THE POEMS OF BURNS.
That when I looked to my dart,
It was sae blunt,
Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart
O' a kail-runt.
It was sae blunt,
Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart
O' a kail-runt.
'I drew my scythe in sic a fury,
I near haud cowpit wi' my hurry,
But yet the bauld Apothecary
Withstood the shock;
I might as weel hae try'd a quarry
O' hard whin rock.
I near haud cowpit wi' my hurry,
But yet the bauld Apothecary
Withstood the shock;
I might as weel hae try'd a quarry
O' hard whin rock.
'E'en them he canna get attended,
Altho' their face he ne'er had kend it,
Just sh— in a kail-blade, and send it,
As soon's he smells't,
Baith their disease, and what will mend it,
At once he tells't.
Altho' their face he ne'er had kend it,
Just sh— in a kail-blade, and send it,
As soon's he smells't,
Baith their disease, and what will mend it,
At once he tells't.
'And then, a' doctor's saws and whittles,
Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles,
A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles,
He's sure to hae;
Their Latin names as fast he rattles
As A B C.
Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles,
A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles,
He's sure to hae;
Their Latin names as fast he rattles
As A B C.
'Calces o' fossils, earths, and trees;
True Sal-marinum o' the seas;
The Farina of beans and pease,
He has't in plenty;
Aqua-fortis, what you please,
He can content ye.
True Sal-marinum o' the seas;
The Farina of beans and pease,
He has't in plenty;
Aqua-fortis, what you please,
He can content ye.
'Forbye some new, uncommon weapons,
Urinus spiritus of capons;
Or Mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings,
Distill'd per se;
Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings,
And mony mae.'
Urinus spiritus of capons;
Or Mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings,
Distill'd per se;
Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings,
And mony mae.'
'Waes me for Johnny Ged's Hole now,'
Quoth I, 'if that thae news be true!
His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew,
Sae white and bonie,
Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew;
They'll ruin Johnie!'
Quoth I, 'if that thae news be true!
His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew,
Sae white and bonie,
Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew;
They'll ruin Johnie!'
The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh,
And says, 'Ye needna yoke the pleugh,
And says, 'Ye needna yoke the pleugh,
