ye go back?”
it spak right howe,—“my name is death,
but be na fley'd.”—"h i, “guid faith,
ye're maybe e to stap my breath;
but tent me, billie;
i red ye weel, tak care o' skaith
see, there's a gully!”
“gudeman,” quo' he, “put up your whittle,
i'm no desigo try its mettle;
but if i did, i wad be kittle
to be mislear'd;
i wad na mind it, no that spittle
out-owre my beard.”
“weel, weel!” says i, “a bargain be't;
e, gie's your hand, an' sae we&#ree't;
we'll ease our shanks an tak a seat—
Death and Doctor Hornbook(4/12)