my sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,

as plump an' grey as ony groset:

o for some rank, mercurial rozet,

or fell, red smeddum,

i'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't,

wad dress your droddum.

i wad na been surpris'd to spy

you on an auld wife's flainen toy;

or aiblins some bit dubbie boy,

on's wyliecoat;

but miss' fine lunardi! fye!

how daur ye do't?

o jeany, dinna toss your head,

an' set your beauties a' abread!

ye little ken what cursed speed

the blastie's makin:

thae winks an' finger-ends, i dread,

are notice takin.

o wad some power the giftie gie us

to see oursels as ithers see us!

it wad frae mony a blunder free us,

an' foolish notion:

what airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,

an' ev'n devotion!