LET gang your grip, ye auld grim devil !
Else with ae crush I'll mak you civil—
Like debtor bard in merchant's claw,
The fient o mercy ye've at a!
Sae spite an malice (hard to ken 'em),
Sit spewin out their secret venom—
Ah, hear !—poor buzzart's roaring “Murder:”
Let gang !—Na, faith !—thou scorn'st my order !—
Weel, tak thee that !—vile ruthless creature !
For wha but hates a savage nature ?
Sic fate to ilk unsocial kebar
Who lays a snare to wrang his neighbour.
[Semple 43]