'Where I kill'd ane, a fair strae-death, [straw (i.e., bed)]
By loss o' blood or want o' breath,
This night I'm free to tak my aith [oath]
That Hornbook's skill
Has clad a score i' their last claith, [cloth]
By drap and pill.
'An honest wabster to his trade, [weaver by]
Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce weel-bred, [fists]
Gat tippence-worth to mend her head
When it was sair; [aching]
The wife slade cannie to her bed, [slid quietly]
But ne'er spak mair.
'A country laird had ta'en the batts, [botts]
Or some curmurring in his guts, [commotion]
His only son for Hornbook sets,
An' pays him well:
The lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets, [pet-ewes]
Was laird himsel.
'A bonnie lass, ye kenn'd her name,
Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wame; [raised, belly]
She trusts hersel, to hide the shame,
In Hornbook's care;
Horn sent her aff to her lang hame,
To hide it there.
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