9
Marked, and felt wi' inward racking
A' the wyte lay wi' himsel,
Swore neist night he'd mak a breaking--
D--d the club and news to hell!
But alas! when habit's rooted
Few hae pith the root to pu';
Will's resolves were aye nonsuited,--
Promised aye--but aye gat fu'.
Aye at first at the convening
Moralized on what was right;
Yet on clavers entertaining
Dozed and drank till broad day-light.
Things at length drew near an ending
Cash rins out--Jean quite unhappy,
Sees that Will is now past mending
Tynes a' heart, and taks a drappy.
Jean, wha lately bare afiliction
Wi' sae meek and mild an air,
Schooled by whisky, learns new tricks soon,
Flytes, and storms, and rugs Will's hair.
Jean, sae late the tenderest mither,
Fond of ilk dear dauted wean;
Now heart-hardened athegither,
Skelps thein round frae morn till e'en.
Jean, wha, vogie, looked to busk aye
In her lame-spun, thrifty wark,
Now sells a' her braws for whisky,
To her last gown, coat, and sark.
