But a' your doings to rehearse,
Your wily snares an' fechtin' fierce, fighting
Sin' that day Michael did you pierce,
Down to this time,
Wad ding a' Lallan tongue, or Erse, heat, Lowland
In prose or rhyme.
An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin', Hoofs
A certain Bardie's rantin', drinkin', roistering
Some luckless hour will send him linkin', hurrying
To your black pit;