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wi' hearty crunt;

an' some, to learn them for their tricks,

were hang'd an' brunt.

this game was play'd in mony lands,

an' auld-light caddies bure sic hands,

that faith, the youngsters took the sands

wi' nimble shanks;

till lairds forbad, by strict commands,

sic bluidy pranks.

but new-light herds gat sic a cowe,

folk thought them ruin'd stick-an-stowe;

till now, amaist on ev'ry knowe

ye'll find ane plac'd;

an' some their new-light fair avow,

just quite barefac'd.

nae doubt the auld-light flocks are bleatin;

their zealous herds are vex'd an' sweatin;

mysel', i've even seen them greetin

wi' girnin spite,

to hear the moon sae sadly lied on

by word an' write.

but shortly they will cowe the louns!

some auld-light herds in neebor touns

are mind't, in things they ca' balloons,

to tak a flight;

an' stay ae month amang the moons

an' see them right.

guid observation they will gie them;

an' when the auld moon's gaun to lea'e them,

the hindmaist shaird, they'll fetch it wi' them

just i' their pouch;

an' when the new-light billies see them,

i think they'll crouch!

sae, ye observe that a' this clatter

is naething but a “moonshine matter”;

but tho' dull prose-folk latin splatter

in logic tulyie,

i hope we bardies ken some better

than mind sic brulyie.