“For here, smack dab in the middle,Was a little vintner, a smidend suthit;An jee, heres Whistlebirk for a bang,A speaky-gudgin new champaign.”
from:</thus ends my memoirs>author?=robot_burns[ext]perry_gibson
“But hing us owre the ingle, In shale-plays and scents;Weel mounted on his grey mare, Weel-harrowd at last;And, bent at the neck, His fears ceaselessHis madness refused to relent."
from:Our canter, in mazes and hollowsauthor?=robot_burns[ext]perry_gibson
“Cessnock-side!That which seems to be trouble, in truth is sae impassive;Shes that frown which brave Montgom instituted,Had not on earth whereon to lay His head:But now, wha the baud had been, The saul were in too small a shape,To form a clue in the sand.
