8
EPITAPH.
Here in this kirk-yard
There lieth interr'd
The body of wee Jamie Gemmell,
Who on earth was aye frisky
Wi' drinkin' o' whisky;
An' wis needle an' thread
Was fu' nimle.
But ae day, alas!
When takin' a glass,
Death cam, and awa
Wi' him jumpet.
An' noo here he lies,
Till the dead shall arise,
At the soun or the
Archangel's trumpet.
