She bann’d her saul, and then she blest it,
That in the Kirk-books it would be lifted,
An’ thus the weary wife insisted,
Our Lettergae
Will sit whar he will not be pish’t at
By dogs some day.
She wrung her hands until they cracked,
An’ sadly me she sham’d an’ lacked—
Ah, man! the Priest, how will he tak’ it,
Whan he hears tell,