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(49) next ››› Page 21Page 21Elegy on John Cowper kirk-treasurer's man, anno 1714

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Frae ’mang the Corn like Wirry-kow,
W*’ Baini fae fair.
And ken'd nae mair than if a Ew,
How I came there.
Some faid it was the Pith of Broom,
That the flow’d in her Masking-loom,
Which in our Heads rais’d flck a Foom,
Or fame wild Seed,
Which aft the Chaping Stoup did toom.
But fill'd our Head.
But now iince ’tis fae that we muff.
Not in the beft Ale put our Truff,
But, whan we re auld, return to duff.
Without Remead,
Why thou’d we tak it in Difguft,
'That MAGGY’/ dead.
Ot wardly Comforts the was rife,
And liv’d a lang and hearty Life,
Right free of Care, or Toil, or Strife,
Till Jhe was Jlale,
And ken’d to be a kanny Wife
At Brewing Ale.
Then farewel M A G G T douce and fell.
Of Brewers a’ thou boor the Bell;
Lei

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