And cursed skill,
Has made them baith no worth a fart;
Damn'd haet they'll kill. Devil a thing
‘'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane, last night
I threw a noble throw at ane—
Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain—
But deil-ma-care!
It just play'd dirl on the bane, rang, bone
But did nae mair.
‘Hornbook was by wi' ready art,