Like yammering Isbel Macky;
Cheer up, ma hinny! leet thy pipe,
And take a blast o’ backy!
It’s but for yen and twenty days,
The foulks’s een aw’ll dazzle,—
Prood, swagg’ring i’ my fine reed claes:
Odds heft! my pit claes—dist thou hear?
Are waurse o’ wear;
Mind cloot them weel, when aw’s away;
An’ a posie gown