LXVI.

EXTEMPORE

PINNED ON A LADY'S COUCH.

["Printed," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "from a copy in Burns's handwriting," a slight alteration in the last line is made from an oral version.]

If you rattle along like your mistress's tongue, Your speed will outrival the dart: But, a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road If your stuff has the rot, like her heart.

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