Category: Humour
"Let mee play the fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans, Why should a man, whose blood is warm through, Sit like his grandsire, cut in alubaster? Sleep when he wakes, and creep int...
"Let mee play the fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans, Why should a man, whose...
2. Part 2First, neist the fire, in auld red rags, Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags, And knapsack a' in order; His doxy lay within his arm, Wi' _usquebae_ an' blankets warm, She blinke...
3. Part 3Three times were the consecrated torches borne round by the archbishop, who, muttering between his teeth, dipped the wisp into a large ewer of holy water, and plentifully bespri...