Argyle papers

APPENDIX. XXix
That never would have wrang'd her throat,
I'll give my aith.
What will be Bankie's occupation,
When he is banish'd frae this nation,
Into a far farast plantation ?
Come and I'll venture, —
Cheatry, adultry, and furnication,
Makes a rare planter.
And if that he be spared alive,
To see his bra' plantation thrive,
Rogues and limmers all will strive
For to gae there,
A wally trade with him they'l drive,
But here they're bare.
O ! but my heart it sairly grieves,
To think that he, with whores and thieves,
Man drudge among tobacco leaves,
Dreeping with sweat,
While a' the wages he receives
Is heal folks 1 meat.
Blae will he look, to think he's lost
His creditable castle post,
And's banisht to an Indian coast,
For being a knave ;
Of Bankie now well nae mair boast,
For he's a slave.
Dreep burial guns ye warlike folk,
That lives upon the castle rock,