Whan for the cluds I canna see
The bonny lift,
I'd fain indite an odd to thee
Had I the gift!...
... 'O Louis, you that writes in Scots,
Ye're far awa' frae stirks and stots,
Wi' drookit herdies, tails in knots,
An unco way!
My mirth's like thorns aneth the pots