I might as weel hae tried a quarry
O' hard whin rock.
‘E'en them he canna get attended,
Altho' their face he ne'er had kenn'd it,
Just sh— in a kail-blade, and send it, cabbage-leaf
As soon's he smells't,
Baith their disease, and what will mend it,
At once he tells't.
‘And then a' doctor's saws and whittles,
Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles,