Yes, papa.
Down in the vale,
The dew hung on the rose—
FAT MINISTER.
None of your vales, nor your dews and your roses—and your flowery fields, and your myrtle groves.
Play, "Up and waur them a', Willie."
Miss, are you for a jig?
COLONEL.
Ladies, good-night—I have seen the time when I would have passed up amongst the gayest—I am now an old fellow.
FAT MINISTER.