The modiewark has done me ill, And below my apron has biggit a hill; I maun consult some learned clark About this wanton Modiewark. An' o the wanton modiewark, The weary wanton modiewark; I maun ...

How cold is that bosom which folly once fired, How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd; How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired, How dull is that ear which to flattery so ...