If ill-manners were wit, there's no mortal so fit
To confound the poor Doctor at ance,
Muirland Jock![14]To confound the poor Doctor at ance.
Andro Gowk! Andro Gowk, ye may slander the Book,
An' the Book nought the waur, let me tell ye;
Tho' ye're rich, an' look big, yet, lay by hat an' wig,
An' ye'll hae a calf's—had o' sma' value,
