Chapter 367 of 1414 · 50 words · ~1 min read

LV.

EPITAPH

ON WILLIAM NICOL.

[Nicol was a scholar, of ready and rough wit, who loved a joke and a gill.]

Ye maggots, feast on Nicol's brain, For few sic feasts ye've gotten; And fix your claws in Nicol's heart, For deil a bit o't's rotten.

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