Kail and potatoes.
L—d, hear my earnest cry an’ pray’r,
Against that presbyt’ry o’ Ayr;
Thy strong right hand, L—d, make it bare,
Upo’ their heads;
L—d, weigh it down, and dinna spare,
For their misdeeds.
O L—d, my G—d, that glib-tongued Aiken,
My very heart and saul are quakin’,
To think how we stood sweatin’, shakin’,