try gentry;
There racer Jess an' twa-three whores
Are blinkin' at the entry.
Here sits a raw o' tittlin' jades, [whispering]
Wi' heavin' breasts an' bare neck,
An' there a batch o' wabster lads, [weaver]
Blackguardin' frae Kilmarnock
For fun this day.

Here some are thinkin' on their sins,
An' some upo' their claes; [clothes]
Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, [soiled]
Anither sighs an' prays:
On this hand sits a chosen swatch, [sample]
Wi' screw'd up, grace-proud faces;
On that a set o' chaps, at watch,
Thrang winkin' on the lasses [Busy]
To chairs that day.

O happy is that man an' blest!
Nae wonder that it pride him!
Whase ain dear lass, that he likes best,
Comes clinkin' down beside him! [Sits snugly]
Wi' arm repos'd on the chair-back
He sweetly does compose him;
Which, by degrees, slips round her neck,
An's loof upon her bosom, [And his palm]
Unkenn'd that day. [Unacknowledged]

Now a' the congregation o'er
Is silent expectation;
For Moodie speels the holy door, [climbs to]
Wi' tidings o' damnation,
Should Hornie, as in ancient days, [Satan]
'Mang sons o' God present him,
The very sight o' Moodie's face
To's ain het hame had sent him [his own hot]
Wi' fright that day.

Hear how he clears the points o' faith
Wi' rattlin' an' wi' thumpin'!
Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,
He's stampin' an' he's jumpin'!
His lengthen'd chin, his turned-up snout,
His eldritch squeal an' gestures, [weird]
O how they fire the heart devout,
Like cantharidian plaisters,
On sic a day! [such]

But, hark! the tent has chang'd its voice;
There's peace an' rest nae langer;
For a' the real judges rise,
They canna sit for anger.
Smith opens out his cauld harangues, [A New Light]
On practice and on morals;
An' aff the