But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,The trembling earth resounds his tread,Clap in his walie nieve a blade,He’ll mak it whissle;An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,Like taps o’ thrissle.Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,And dish them out their bill o’ fare,Auld Scotland wants nae skinking wareThat jaups in luggies;But, if ye wish her gratefu’ pray’r,Gie h...