i think they call it.
he has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets:
rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets,
wad haud the lothians three in tackets,
a towmont gude;
and parritch-pats and auld saut-backets,
before the flood.
of eve's first fire he has a cinder;
auld tubalcain's fire-shool and fender;
that which distinguished the gender
o' balaam's ass:
a broomstick o' the witch of endor,
weel shod wi' brass.
forbye, he'll shape you aff fu' gleg
the cut of adam's philibeg;
the knife that nickit abel's craig
he'll prove you fully,
it was a faulding jocteleg,
or lang-kail gullie.
but wad ye see him in his glee,
for meikle glee and fun has he,
then set him down, and twa or three
gude fellows wi' him:
and port, o port! shine thou a wee,
and then ye'll see him!
now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose!
thou art a dainty chield, o grose!—
whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,
they sair misca' thee;
i'd take the rascal by the nose,
wad say, “shame fa' thee!”