Is grown right eerie now she's done it, scared
Lest they should blame her,
An' rouse their holy thunder on it,
And anathém her. curse
I own 'twas rash, an' rather hardy,
That I, a simple country bardie,
Shou'd meddle wi' a pack sae sturdy,
Wha, if they ken me,
Can easy, wi' a single wordie,