MS: 'Love and Liberty – A Cantata'

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MS: 'Love and Liberty – A Cantata'


Poor Merry-andrew, on a the neuk,
Sat guzzling wi' a Tinkler-hizzie;
They mind't na wha the chorus teuk,
Between themsels they were sae busy:
At length wi' drink an' courting dizzy,
He stoiter'd up an' made a face;
Then turn'd an' [page torn]
Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave grimace

Air. Tune, Auld Sir Symon.

Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou;
Sir Knave is a fool in a Session,
He's there but a prentice, I trow,
But I am a fool by profes'ion.
My grannie she bought me a beuk,
An' I held awa to the school;
I fear I my talent misteuk,
But what will ye hae of a fool.

For drink I would venture my neck;
A hizzie's the half of my Craft:
But what could ye other expect
Of ane that's avowedly daft ----
I, ance, was ty'd up like a stirk,
For civilly swearing and quaffing;
I, ance, was abus'd i' the kirk,
For towsing a lass i' my daffin.

Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport,
Let nae body name wi' a jeer;

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