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Coup owre the stools an' spill his brose»
An' scart his face, an' blude his nose ?
An' what if Will, o' bardie mettle,
Shou'd cuff her lugs to gar her settle ?
'Tis no the wliiskey that's to blame,
But fouk that's lost to sense an' shame.
An' what if corn, an' horse, an' cows,
Shou'd gang to pay the Laird his dues ?
An' Will himsel' shou'd tak the road,
An' cross the sea—an' gang abroad.
An' ser' his king—an' fece the storm ?
'Tis but reformin' o' reform.—
I've kent men o' our kirk session,
O' blameless walk, an' fair profession.
Wad sit an' tell their bonnie tale,
When owre a gill, or pint o' ale,
Gang hame at e'en without offence j
But they were men o' common sense:

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