4
Conversation turn'd to roaring,
Every ane wad hae his say,
Save a party wha lay, snoring
The effects o' drink away.
Contradiction wasna idle
In advising Strife to rise;
And the tongue without a bridle,
Food for passion soon supplies,
Personal abuse now quickly
Sent her arrows every where,
Till at last the blows fell thickly
On the ribs o' many there.
Black een follow'd bloody noses,
Oaths tremendous struck the ear;
This ane wi' big words opposes
That ane, if he seems to fear.
Braggarts never seem sae awfu’
As when in a tavern brawl;
Threats then some might think unlawfu'
On a' roun' them they let fall,
So yestreen, 'tween blows and boasting,
Sic a night was never spent,
Till at last the watch came posting,
And broke up our tournament.
