stanes amang,
in gaspih to wallow.
st day i grat wi' spite and teen,
as poet burns came by.
that, to a bard, i should be seen
wi' half my el dry;
a panegyric rhyme, i ween,
ev'n as i was, he shor'd me;
but had i in my glory been,
he, kneeling, wad ador'd me.
here, foaming down the skelvy rocks,
in twisting strength i rin;
there, high my boiling torrent smokes,
wild-r o'er a linn:
enjoying each rge spring and well,
as nature gave them me,
i am, altho' i say't mysel',
waun a mile to see.
The Humble Petition Of Bruar Water(2/6)