postcript
my memory's no worth a preen;
i had amaist fotten ,
ye bade me write you what they mean
by this “new-light,”
'bout which our herds sae aft hae been
maist like to fight.
in days when mankind were but s
at grammar, logi' sic talents,
they took nae pains their speech to bance,
or rules to gie;
but spak their thoughts in pin, braid lns,
like you or me.
in thae auld times, they thought the moon,
just like a sark, or pair o' shoon,
wore by degrees, till her st roon
gaed past their viewin;
an' shortly af
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