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Third Epistle To J. Lapraik
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to help, or roose us;

but browster wives an' whisky stills,

they are the muses.

your friendship, sir, i winna quat it,

an' if ye mak' objections at it,

then hand in neive some day we'll knot it,

an' witness take,

an' when wi' usquabae we've wat it

it winna break.

but if the beast an' branks be spar'd

till kye be gaun without the herd,

and a' the vittel in the yard,

an' theekit right,

i mean your ingle-side to guard

ae winter night.

then muse-inspirin' aqua-vitae

shall make us baith sae blythe and witty,

till ye forget ye're auld an' gatty,

an' be as canty

as ye were nine years less than thretty—

sweet ane an' twenty!

but stooks are cowpit wi' the blast,

and now the sinn keeks in the west,

then i maun rin amang the rest,

an' quat my chanter;

sae i subscribe myself' in haste,

yours, rab the ranter.

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