Lucky Spence's last Advice.
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I.
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THREE Times the Carline grain'd and rifted,
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Then from the Cod her Pow she lifted,
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In bawdy Policy well gifted,
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whan now she fawn
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That Death na langer wad be shifted,
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she thus began:
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II.
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MY loving Lasses, I maun leave ye;
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But dinna wi ye'r Greeting grieve me,
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Nor wi ye'r Draunts and Droning deave me,
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but bring's a Gill;
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For, Faith, my Bairns, ye may believe me,
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'gainst my Will.
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III.
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O clappet Bess, and shanker Meg,
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O'er good to work, or yet to beg,
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Lay Sunkots up for a fair Leg;
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for, whan ye fail,
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Ye'r Face will not be worth a Feg,
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nor yet ye'r Tail.
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IV.
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Whan e'er ye meet a Fool that's fow,
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That ye're a Maiden gar him trow:
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Seem nice, but stick to him like Glew;
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and, whan set down,
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Drive at the Jango till he spew,
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syn he'll sleep soun.
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V.
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Whan he's asleep, then dive and catch
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His ready Cash, his Rings or Watch;
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And, gin he likes to light his Match
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at your Spunk-Box,
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Ne'er stand to let the fumbling Wratch
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e'en take the Pox.
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VI.
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Cleek a ye can be Hook or Crook,
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Ryp ilky Poutch frae Nook to Nook,
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Be sure to truff his Pocket-Book;
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saxty Pund Scots
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Is nae deaf Nits; in little Bouk
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lyes great Bank-Notes.
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VII.
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To get a Mense of whinging Fools,
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That's frighted for Repenting-Stools,
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Wha aften, whan their Mettal cools,
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turn sweer to pay;
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Gar the Kirk-Boxie hale the Dools
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anither Day.
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VIII.
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But daut Red-Coats, and let them scoup
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Free, for the Fou of cutty Stoup;
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To gee them up ye need na houp
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e'er to do weel:
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They'll rive ye'r Brats, and kick ye'r Doup,
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and play the Deel.
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IX.
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There's ae fair Cross attends the Craft,
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That curst Correction-house, where ast
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Vild Hangy's Tax ye'r Riggins fast
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makes black and blae,
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Enough to pit a Body daft:
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But what'll ye say,
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X.
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Nane gathers Gear withoutten Care,
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Ilk Pleasure has of Pain a Skare:
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Suppose then they should tirle ye bare,
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and gar ye fike,
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E'en learn to thole; it's very fair
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ye're Nibour-like.
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XI.
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Forby, my Looves, count upo' Losses,
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Ye'r Milk-whyt Teeth, and Cheeks like Roses,
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Whan Jet-black Hair and Brigs of Noses
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faws down wi Dads,
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To keep your Hearts up 'neath sic Crosses,
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set up for Bawds.
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XII.
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Wi well crish'd Loofs I have been canty;
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Whan e'er the Lads wad fain a faun t'ye,
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To try the auld Game Taunty Ranty,
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like Cursers keen,
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They took Advice of me your Aunty
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if ye was clean.
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XIII.
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Then up I took my Siller Caw,
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And whistl'd benn whiles ane, whiles twa;
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Round in his Lug, that there was a
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poor Country Kate,
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As halesome as the Well of Spaw,
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but unka blate.
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XIV.
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Sae, whan e'er Company came in,
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And were upo' a merry Pin,
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I slaid away wi little Din,
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and muckle Menss;
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Lest Conscience Judge, it was a ane
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to Lucky Spence.
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XV.
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My Bennison come on good Doers,
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Who spend their Cash on Bawds and Whoors;
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May they ne'er want the Wale of Cures
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for a sair Snout.
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Foul saw the Quacks, that Fire smoors,
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and puts na out.
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XVI.
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My Malison light ilky Day
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On them that drinks, and dis na pay,
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But takes a Snack, and rins away:
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May't be their Hap,
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Never to want a Gonorhaea,
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or rotten Clap.
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XVII.
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Lass, gee us in anither Gill,
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A Mutchken, Jo, let's tak our Fill;
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Let Death syne registrate his Bill:
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Whan I want Sense,
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I'll slip away with better Will,
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quo Lucky Spence.
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