The deil cam fiddlin thro'the town, And danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman; And ilka wife cries, auld Mahoun, I wish you luck o'the prize, man!
Hashenot a rogue'sface??a haunting-look tome?has a damned Tyburn-face, without the benefit o'the Clergy.william congreve
The laird o'Cockpen, he's proud an' he's great, His mind is ta'en up wi' things o'the State.
I'm wearin'awa', John Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John, I'm wearin'awa' To the land o'the leal.