Ronalds Of The Bennals, The

to say na, man:

for though i be poor, unnoticed, obscure,

my stomach's as proud as them a', man.

though i a ride in weel-booted pride,

and flee o'er the hills like a craw, man,

i haud up my head wi' the best o' the breed,

though fluttering ever so braw, man.

my coat and my vest, they are scotch o' the best,

o'pairs o' guid breeks i hae twa, man;

and stogs and pumps to put on my stumps,

and ne'er a wrang steek in them a', man.

my sarks they are few, but five o' them new,

twal' hundred, as white as the snaw, man,

a ten-shillings hat, a holland cravat;

there are no mony poets sae braw, man.

i never had frien's weel stockit in means,

to leave me a hundred or twa, man;

nae weel-tocher'd aunts, to wait on their drants,

and wish them in hell for it a', man.

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