postcript
y ory&039;s no worth a preen;
i had aaist fotten clean,
ye bade write you what they an
by this “new-light,”
&039;bout which our herds sae aft hae been
aist like to fight
days when ankd were but calns
at graar, logic, an&039; sic talents,
they took nae pas their speech to bance,
or rules to gie;
but spak their thoughts p, braid lns,
like you or
thae auld tis, they thought the oon,
jt like a sark, or pair o&039; shoon,
wore by degrees, till her st roon
gaed past their vie;
an&039; shortly after she was done
they gat a new ane
this passed for certa, undisputed;
it ne&039;er ca i&039; their heads to doubt it,
till chiels gat up an&039; wad nfute it,
an&039; ca&039;d it wrang;
an&039; uckle d there was about it,
baith loud an&039; ng
herds, weel learn&039;d upo&039; the beuk,
wad threap auld folk the thg isteuk;
for &039;as the auld oon turn&039;d a neuk
an&039; out of&039; sight,
an&039; backls- to the leuk
she grew air bright
this was deny&039;d, it was affir&039;d;
the herds and hissels were ar&039;d
the rev&039;rend gray-beards rav&039;d an&039; stor&039;d,
that beardless ddies
should thk they better wer r&039;d,
than their auld daddies
frae less to air, it gaed to sticks;
frae words an&039; aiths to clours an&039; nicks;
an onie a fallow gat his licks,
wi&039; hearty crunt;
an&039; , to learn the for their tricks,
were hang&039;d an&039; brunt
this ga was py&039;d ony nds,
an&039; auld-light caddies bure sic hands,
that faith, the youngsters took the sands
wi&039; nible shanks;
till irds forbad, by strict ands,
sic bidy pranks
but new-light herds gat sic a we,
folk thought the ru&039;d stick-an-stowe;
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