Poem by Isabel Pagan

Skit on an Old Huntsman

I knew a sportsman that was auld,
	His taste it was but sma’,
If he got clothes to keep him warm,
	He minds not to be braw.

He rave his wallet and made breeks o’t,
	The Bible broad before,
A restless tenant dwelt within,
	Yet had a holy door.

1. Now Once a Young Man Courted Me
2. Aughlen Spring
3. There Came a Bold Hero of Late from the West
4. The Laird of Glenlee
5. To End Youthful Sporting It Has Been My Fortune

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