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"Ye ken Hornbook i' the clachan,
Deil mak his king's-hood in spleuchan!
He's grown sae weel acquaint wi' Buchan^4
And ither chaps,
The weans haud out their fingers laughin,
An' pouk my hips.
"See, here's a scythe, an' there's dart,
They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart;
But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art
An' cursed skill,
Has made them baith no worth a f-t,
Damn'd haet they'll kill!
"'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane,
I threw a noble throw at ane;
Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain;
But deil-ma-care,
It just play'd dirl on the bane,
But did nae mair.
"Hornbook was by, wi' ready art,
An' had sae fortify'd the part,
[Footnote 3: This gentleman, Dr. Hornbook, is professionally
a brother of the sovereign Order of the Ferula; but, by
intuition and inspiration, is at once an apothecary,
surgeon, and physician.--R.B.]
[Footnote 4: Burchan's Domestic Medicine.--R.B.]
That when I looked to my dart,
It was sae blunt,
Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart
Of a kail-runt.


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