'Weel, weel!' says I, 'a bargain be't; Come, gies your hand, an' sae we're gree't; [give us, agreed] We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat-- Come, gies your news; This while ye hae been mony a gate, [road] At mony a house.'
'Ay, ay!' quo' he, an' shook his head, 'It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed Sin' I began to nick the thread, An' choke the breath: Folk maun do something for their bread, [must] An' sae maun Death.
'Sax thousand years are near-hand fled, [well-nigh] Sin' I was to the hutching bred; [butchering] An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid To stap or scaur me; [stop, scare] Till ane Hornbook's ta'en up the trade, An' faith! he'll waur me. [worst]
'Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the clachan-- [village] Deil mak his king's-hood in a spleuchan! [second stomach, tobacco pouch] He's grown sae well acquaint wi' Buchan [(Author of _Domestic Medicine_)] An' ither chaps, The weans haud out their fingers laughin', [children] And pouk my hips. [poke]
'See, here's a scythe, and there's a dart-- They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart; But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art And cursed skill, Has made them baith no worth a fart; Damn'd haet they'll kill. [Devil a thing]
''Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane, [last night] I threw a noble throw at ane-- Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain-- But deil-ma-care! It just play'd dirl on the bane, [rang, bone] But did nae mair.
'Hornbook was by wi' ready art, And had sae fortified the part That, when I lookèd to my dart, It was sae blunt, Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart [Devil a bit] O' a kail-runt. [cabbage stalk]
'I drew my scythe in sic a fury I near-hand cowpit wi' my hurry, [upset] But yet the bauld Apothecary Withstood the shock; I might as weel hae tried a quarry O' hard whin rock.
'E'en them he canna get attended, Altho' their face he ne'er had kenn'd it, Just sh-- in a kail-blade, and send it, [cabbage-leaf] As soon's he smells't, Baith their disease, and what will mend it, At once he tells't.
'And then a' doctor's saws and whittles, Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, He's sure to hae; Their Latin names as fast he rattles As A B C.
'_Calces_ o' fossils, earths, and trees; True _sal-marinum_ o' the seas; The _farina_ of beans and pease, He has't in plenty; _Aqua-fortis_, what you please, He can content ye.