an, gif it's sae, ye sud by lickit
until ye fyke;
sic haun's as you sud ne'er be faikit,
be hain't wha like.
for me, i'm on parnassus' brink,
rivin the words to gar them k;
whiles dazed wi' love, whiles dazed wi' drink,
wi' jads or masons;
an' whiles, but aye owre te, i think
braw sober lessons.
of a' the thoughtless sons o' man,
en' to me the bardie ;
except it be some idle pn
o' rhymin k,
the devil haet,—that i sud ban—
they ever think.
hought, nae view, nae scheme o'
Second Epistle to Davie(2/4)