I’d rather haud my tongue, and thole
Your clishmaclavers,
Than try to plod through sic a scrole
O’ senseless havers.
O’ warlocks and o’ witches a’,
O’ spunkies, kelpies, great or sma’,
There isna ony truth ava
In what you say,
For siccan frichts I never saw,
Up to this day.