horns fu' ty;
nae mair thou'lt rowt out-owre the dale,
because thy pasture's sty;
for pfu's rge o' gospel kail
shall fill thy crib iy,
an' runts o' grace the pi' wale,
no gi'en by way o' dainty,
but ilka day.
nae mair by babel's streams we'll weep,
to think upon our zion;
and hing our fiddles up to sleep,
like baby-clouts a-dryin!
e, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep,
and o'er the thairms be tryin;
oh, rare to see our elbucks wheep,
and a' like mb-tails flyin
fu&#
The Ordination(4/8)