As weel keep bees frae honey-pots,
Keep cats frae cream, or bairns frae tarts,
As thristles and their brither Scots
Frae lands whaur goud is found i’ quartz.
WELL TURNED
Minister (reproachfully, to bibulous village barber with shaking hand). “Ah, John, John! That whisky——”!
Barber (condolently). “Aye, sir, it mak’s the skin unco tender!”