d cy biggin;
an' heard the restless rattons squeak
about the riggin.
all in this mottie, misty clime,
i backward mus'd on wasted time,
how i had spent my youthfu' prime,
an' done hing,
but stringing blethers up in rhyme,
for fools to sing.
had i to guid advice but harkit,
i might, by this, hae led a market,
or strutted in a bank and crkit
my cash-at;
while here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit.
is a' th' amount.
i started, mutt&#, “blockhead! coof!”
and heav'd on high my waukit loof,
to swear by a
The Vision(2/17)