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. Account of the Author’s Lifetime
2. Muirkirk Light Weights
3. The Crook and Plaid
4. The Putting Begins
5. Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes

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