Part 1 — POINT VII.

So sung the Bard—and Nansie's waws Shook wi' a thunder of applause Re-echo'd from each mouth! They toom'd[18] their pokes, they pawn'd their duds[19], They scarcely left to coor their fuds, To quench their lowan drouth. Then owre again, the jovial thrang, The poet did request, To lowse his pack an' wale a sang, A ballad o' the best. He, rising, rejoicing, Between his twa Debōrahs, Looks round him, an' found them Impatient for the chorus.