like ither christians,
i'm dwindled down to mere existence,
wi' nae verse but gallowa' bodies,
wi' nae kenn'd face but jenny geddes,
jenny, my pegasean pride!
dowie she saunters down nithside,
and aye a westlin leuk she throws,
while tears hap o'er her auld brown nose!
was it for this, wi' ie care,
thou bure the bard through many a shire?
at howes, or hilloever stumbled,
and te or early never grumbled?—
o had i power like ination,
i'd heeze thee up a steltion,
to ter with the sagitarre,
or loup the ecliptic l
Epistle To Hugh Parker(2/3)