stro's blood,
there thou shines chief.
food fills the wame, an' keeps us leevin;
tho' life's a gift no worth receivin,
when heavy-dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin;
but, oil'd by thee,
the wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin,
wi' rattlin glee.
thou clears the head o'doited lear;
thou cheers ahe heart o' drooping care;
thou strings the nerves o' bour sair,
at's weary toil;
though even brightens dark despair
wi' gloomy smile.
aft, massy siller weed,
wi' gehou erects thy he
Scotch Drink(3/9)