Keep very far from Bacchus’ reach,
He drown’d a’ my cares to preach,
Wi’ his ma’t-bree,
I’ve wore sair banes by mony a bleech
O’ his tap-tree.
If venus does possess your mind,
Her antics ten times warse ye’ll find,
For to ill tricks she’s sae inclin’d,
For praticks past,
She blew me here before the wind: