FED by a living spring, a rill
Flow'd easily adown a hill.
A thousand flowers upon its bank
Flourish'd fu' fair and grew right rank.
Near to its course a syke did ly,
Whilk was in simmer aften dry,
And ne'er recover'd life again
But after soaking showers of rain.
Then wad he swell, look big and sprush,
And o'er his margine proudly gush.
Ae day, after great waughts of weet,
He with the chrystal current met
And ran him down with unco' din.
Said he: "How poorly does thou rin!
See with what state I dash the brae,
Whilst thou canst hardly make thy way."
THE spring, with a superior air,
Said, "Sir, your brag gives me nae care;
For soon's ye want your foreign aid,
Your paughty cracks will soon be laid.
Frae my ain head I have supply;
But you must borrow, else rin dry."
Fed bi a leevin spring, a rill
Flowed easily adoon a hill.
A thousan flooers upon its bank
Florished fu fair, an grue richt rank.
Near til its coorse a syke did ly,
Whilk wes in simmer aften dry,
An neer rekivered life again
But efter soakin shooers o rain.
Than wad he swall, leuk big an sprush,
An ower his mairgin proodly gush.
Ae day, efter gret wauchts o weet,
He wi the creestal current meet
An ran him doon wi unco din.
Sayd he: "Hoo puirly daes thou rin?
See wi what stett Ah dash the brae,
Whilst thou canst hardly mek thy wey."
The spring, wi a superior air,
Sayd, "Sir, yer brag gies me nae care;
For suin's ye want yer furrin aid,
Yer pauchtie cracks wull suin be laid.
Frae ma ain heid Ah have supply;
But you must borrae, else rin dry."