epistle to majan
hail, thairm-inspirin', rattlin' willie!
tho' fortune's road be rough an' hilly
to every fiddling, rhyming billie,
we never heed,
but take it like the unback'd filly,
proud o' her speed.
when, idly goavin', whiles we saunter,
yirr! fancy barks, awa we ter,
up hill, down brae, till some mister,
some bck bog-hole,
arrests us; then the scathe an' banter
we're forced to thole.
hale be your heart! hale be your fiddle!
ng may your elbuck jink and diddle,
to cheer you through the weary
Epistle To Major Logan(1/6)