[poke]
'See, here's a scythe, and there's a dart--
They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart;
But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art
And cursed skill,
Has made them baith no worth a fart;
Damn'd haet they'll kill. [Devil a thing]
''Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane, [last night]
I threw a noble throw at ane--
Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain--
But deil-ma-care!
It just play'd dirl on the bane, [rang, bone]
But did nae mair.
'Hornbook was by wi' ready art,
And had sae fortified the part
That, when I looked to my dart,
It was sae blunt,
Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart [Devil a bit]
O' a kail-runt. [cabbage stalk]
'I drew my scythe in sic a fury
I near-hand cowpit wi' my hurry, [upset]
But yet the bauld Apothecary
Withstood the shock;
I might as weel hae tried a quarry
O' hard whin rock.
'E'en them he canna get attended,
Altho' their face he ne'er had kenn'd it,
Just sh-- in a kail-blade, and send it, [cabbage-leaf]
As soon's he smells't,
Baith their disease, and what will mend it,
At once he tells't.
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