heave the
sic a—o! do i live to see&039;t?—
sic fao a should disagree&039;t,
and nas, like “vil,” “hypocrite,”
ilk ither gi&039;en,
while new-light herds, wi&039; ugh spite,
say neither&039;s lie!
a&039; ye wha tent the gospel fauld,
there&039;s duncan deep, an&039; peebles shaul,
but chiefly thou, &039;tle auld,
we trt thee,
that thou wilt work the, het an&039; cauld,
till they agree
nsider, sirs, how we&039;re beset;
there&039;s scarce a new herd that we t,
but es frae &039;ang that cursed set,
i na na;
i hope frae heav&039;n to see the yet
fiery f
dalryple has been ng our fae,
&039;gill has wrought ikle wae,
an&039; that curs&039;d rascal ca&039;d &039;hae,
and baith the shaws,
that aft hae ade bck an&039; be,
wi&039; venfu&039; paws
auld wodrow ng has hatch&039;d ischief;
we thought aye death wad brg relief;
but he has gotten, to our grief,
ane to sueed hi,
a chield wha&039;ll undly buff our beef;
i ikle dread hi
and ony a ane that i uld tell,
wha fa wad openly rebel,
forby turn-ats aang oursel&039;,
there&039;s sith for ane;
i doubt he&039;s but a grey nick ill,
an&039; that ye&039;ll f&039;
o! a&039; ye flocks o&039;er a, the hills,
by osses, adows, oors, and fells,
e, jo your unsel and your skills
to we the irds,
an&039; t the brutes the power thesel&039;s
to choose their herds
then orthodoxy yet ay prance,
an&039; learng a woody dance,
an&039; that fell cur ca&039;d on sense,
that bites sae sair,
be banished o&039;er the sea to france:
let hi bark there
then shaw&039;s an&039; d&039;ryple&039;s eloence,
&039;gill&039;s close nervo excellence
&039;hae&039;s pathetic anly sense,
an&039; guid &039;at
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