Curse thou his basket and his store,
Kail and potatoes!
Lord hear my earnest cry an' pray'r,
Against that presbyt'ry o' Ayr;
Thy strong right hand, Lord, make it bare
Upo' their heads;
Lord, visit them, and dinna spare, do not
For their misdeeds.
O Lord my God, that glib-tongu'd Aiken,
My very heart and soul are quakin',