Tak tent when you touch it, you haudna it wrang.
The Press I'll next mention, a noble invention,
The great mental cook with resources so vast;
It spreads on bright pages the knowledge o' ages,
And tells to the future the things of the past.
Hech, sirs! but its awfu' (but ne'er mind it's lawfu')
To saddle the Postman wi' sic meikle bags;
Wi' epistles and sonnets, love billets and groan-ets,
Ye'll tear the poor Postie to shivers and rags.
Noo Jock sends to Jenny, it costs but ae penny,