i think they call it.

he has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets:

rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets,

wad haud the lothians three in tackets,

a towmont gude;

and parritch-pats and auld saut-backets,

before the flood.

of eve's first fire he has a cinder;

auld tubalcain's fire-shool and fender;

that which distinguished the gender

o' balaam's ass:

a broomstick o' the witch of endor,

weel shod wi' brass.

forbye, he'll shape you aff fu' gleg

the cut of adam's philibeg;

the knife that nickit abel's craig

he'll prove you fully,

it was a faulding jocteleg,

or lang-kail gullie.

but wad ye see him in his glee,

for meikle glee and fun has he,

then set him down, and twa or three

gude fellows wi' him:

and port, o port! shine thou a wee,

and then ye'll see him!

now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose!

thou art a dainty chield, o grose!—

whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,

they sair misca' thee;

i'd take the rascal by the nose,

wad say, “shame fa' thee!”