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The two round Spaces void of Snow I The Devil believes that the Lord will come Stealing a march without beat of drum About the same hour that he came East On an old Christmas day in a snowey blast Till he bids the trump sound nor body nor soul stirs For the dead men's heads have slipt under their bolsters 2 Brother bard Brother bard in the Church yard Both beds and bolsters are soft and green Save one alone & that's of stone And under it lies a Counsellor keen T'would be a square tomb if it was not too long And 'tis fenc'd round with Irons tall spearlike & strong 3 This fellow from Aberdeen hither did skip With a waxey face and a blubber lip And a black tooth in front to shew in part What was the color of his whole heart

This Counseller sweet this Scotchman complete the Devil [inserted: scotch him for a snake] I trust he lies in his grave awake