And wade through hell fire in your boots.
Auld Satan cleekit him by the spaul,
And stappit him i’ the dub o’ hell.
The foulest fiend there doughtna bide him,
The damn’d they wadna fry beside him,
Till the bluidy duke came trysting hither,
And the ae fat butcher tried the tither.
Ae deevil sat splitting brumstane matches;
Ane roasting the Whigs like bakers’ batches;
Ane wi’ fat a Whig was basting,