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postcript

y ory&039;s no worth a preen;

i had aaist fotten clean,

ye bade write you what they an

by this “new-light,”

&039;bout which our herds sae aft hae been

aist like to fight

days when ankd were but calns

at graar, logic, an&039; sic talents,

they took nae pas their speech to bance,

or rules to gie;

but spak their thoughts p, braid lns,

like you or

thae auld tis, they thought the oon,

jt like a sark, or pair o&039; shoon,

wore by degrees, till her st roon

gaed past their vie;

an&039; shortly after she was done

they gat a new ane

this passed for certa, undisputed;

it ne&039;er ca i&039; their heads to doubt it,

till chiels gat up an&039; wad nfute it,

an&039; ca&039;d it wrang;

an&039; uckle d there was about it,

baith loud an&039; ng

herds, weel learn&039;d upo&039; the beuk,

wad threap auld folk the thg isteuk;

for &039;as the auld oon turn&039;d a neuk

an&039; out of&039; sight,

an&039; backls- to the leuk

she grew air bright

this was deny&039;d, it was affir&039;d;

the herds and hissels were ar&039;d

the rev&039;rend gray-beards rav&039;d an&039; stor&039;d,

that beardless ddies

should thk they better wer r&039;d,

than their auld daddies

frae less to air, it gaed to sticks;

frae words an&039; aiths to clours an&039; nicks;

an onie a fallow gat his licks,

wi&039; hearty crunt;

an&039; , to learn the for their tricks,

were hang&039;d an&039; brunt

this ga was py&039;d ony nds,

an&039; auld-light caddies bure sic hands,

that faith, the youngsters took the sands

wi&039; nible shanks;

till irds forbad, by strict ands,

sic bidy pranks

but new-light herds gat sic a we,

folk thought the ru&039;d stick-an-stowe;