Of politics can talk wi’ skill,
Nor dare the critics blame his quill.
But then a rustic country quean
To write—was e’er the like o’t seen?
A milk maid poem-books to print;
Mair fit she wad her dairy tent;
Or labour at her spinning wheel,
An’ do her wark baith swift an’ weel.
Frae that she may some profit share,
But winna frae her rhyming ware.