The smith and thee gat roarin' fou on;
That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday,
Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday.
She prophesied that, late or soon,
Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;
Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk wizards, dark
By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.
Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet makes, weep
To think how many counsels sweet,
How mony lengthen'd sage advices,