O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed—
The trembling earth resounds his tread!
Clap in his walie nieve a blade, ample fist
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned, crop
Like taps o' thrissle. thistle
Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare