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"Whan he firſt ſaw Jeanie Miller,
" Wha wi' Jeanie cou'd compare?
" Thouſands had mair braws and filler,
“ But were ony half ſac fair?”
See them now-how changed wi' drinking!
A' their youthfu' beauty gane—!
Daver'd, doited daiz'd and blinking;
Worne to perfect ſkin and bane!
In the cauld month o' November
(Claise, and cash; and credit out)
Cowring owre a dying ember,
Wi' ilk face as white's a clout.
Bond and bill, and debts a' ſtoppit,
(illegible text) felt on the bent:
Cattle beds, and blankets roupit
Now to pay the Laird his rent.
No anither night to lodge'here!
No a friend their cauſe to plead!
He taen on to be a ſodger,
She wi' weans to beg her bread!
O' a' the ills poor Caledonia
Eer yet preed, or e'er will taſte;
Brew'd in Hell's black Pandemonia,
WHISKY'S ill will ſkaith her maiſt
FINIS
