he an of uzz
your spitefu&039; joke?
an&039; how ye gat hi i&039; your thrall,
an&039; brak hi out o&039; hoe an hal&039;,
while scabs and botches did hi gall,
wi&039; bitter cw;
an&039; lows&039;d his ill-tongu&039;d wicked scaul&039;,
was warst ava?
but a&039; your dogs to rehearse,
your wily snares an&039; fecht fierce,
s&039; that day ichael did you pierce,
down to this ti,
wad dg a ln toun, or erse,
prose or rhy
an&039; now, auld cloots, i ken ye&039;re thk,
a certa bardie&039;s rant, drk,
ckless hour will send hi lk
to your bck pit;
but faith! he&039;ll turn a rner jk,
an&039; cheat you yet
but fare-you-weel, auld nickie-ben!
o wad ye tak a thought an&039; n&039;!
ye aibls ight—i dna ken—
stil hae a stake:
i&039; wae to thk up&039; yon den,
ev&039;n for your sake!
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