How nimbly could I turn the Hair, 

 Then serve myself, that was right fair ! 

 For still it was my constant Care 

 The Van to lead : 



Now, what could sary Heck do mar, 

 Syne kill her dead ? 



At the King's-mirir and Kelly-law, 



Where good stout Hairs gang fast awa, 



So cliverly I did it Claw, 



With Pith and Speed, 



I bore the Bell before them a' 



As dear's a Beid. 



I ran alike on a' kind Grounds, 



Yea, in the midst of Ardry Whines, 



I grip't the Nackings be the Bunns, 



Or be the Neck ; 



Where nathing could slay them but Guns, 



Save bonny Heck. 



I wily, witty was, and Gash, 



With my auld felni packy Pash 



Nae man might anes buy me for Cash 



In some respect. 



Are they not then confounded Rash, 



That hangs poor Heck ? 



I was a bardy Tyke and bauld ; 

 Tho' my beard's grey, I'm not so auld : 



40 



