David Crawford

On receiving a Shock from an Electric Machine, when Author was troubled with Pains

Master o’ med’cine, Robie Scott,
Ye see I hae not yet forgot,
How I maist lap out o, my coat,
		Whan your machine
Cust fire upo’, me like a shot,
		Last Friday een.

When I sit down to rest my bains, 
The blude rins slowly i’ my veins, 
Whilk often pierceth me wi’ pains,
		Maist to the heart; 
But yon will fright what yet remains,
		It comes sae smart.

Therefore, Dear Sir, I hae a mind, 
While ye remain sae vera kind, 
To mak disease baith lame and blind,
		Upon my word, 
Tho’ they should come with strength combin’d,
		You’ll help afford.