Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle; Quick, temples settle
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle
Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle i.e. comb
Your thick plantations.
Now haud ye there! ye're out o' sight, keep
Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight; fal-de-rals
Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right