’T’will mak ye sune forget ye’r grief!
And should auld mokie sorrow freeten,
His blythesome tale ye’r hearts will leeten;
And sure I am, ye grief may banter,
By looking ow’r his “Tam O’ Shanter.”
And, while I breathe, whene’er I’se scant,
O’ cheerful friends—and fynde a want
Of something blythe to cure my glumps,
And free me frae the doleful dumps,
I’ll tak his beuk, and read awhile,