LIFE and DEATH OF THE Piper of KilbarchanOR,  

The Epitaph of Habbie Simpson,  
He made his Cheeks as red as Crimson,  
Who on his Dron bore bonny Flags,  
And babed when he blew the Bags,   

Kilbarchan now may say alas!  
For she hath lost her game & grace  
Both Trixie and the Maiden-trace  
B●● what rem●ed?  
For no Man can supply his place,  
H●● Simphon's dead,   

Now who shall play the day it daws  
Or hunts up when the Cock he craws  
Or who can for our Kirk Town Cause,  
stand us in stead?  
On bagpipes now nobody blaws,  
For Habbie's dead,   

Or who shall cause our Shearers shear  
Who will bend up the Brags of Weir?  
Bring in the Bells or good play Meir,  
In time of need,  
Hab Simpson could what needs you spear  
But now he's dead.   

So kindly to his Neighbour neist,  
At Belian and Saint barchans' Feast  
He blew and then held up his Breast,  
as he were weighed,  
But now we need not him arrest?  
For Habbie's dead,   

At Fairs he played before the Spear-men  
All gaily graithed in their Geer-men,  
Steel Bonners, Jacts and Swords so clear  
Like any Bead.  
Now who will play before such Weirmen than  
Sen Habbie's dead,   

At Clark plays when be wont to come  
His Pipe played trimly to the Drum:  
Like Bikes of bees he gait it bum  
And turn his Reed:  
Now all our Pipers my sing dumb  
Sen Habbie's dead,   

And at Horse-races many a day,  
Before the Black, the Brown and Gray  
He gart his Pipe when he did play,  
Both Ski●l and Sk●…ed:  
Now all such pastime's quite away  
Sen Habbie's dead,   

He counted was a walled wight Man,  
And fiercely at football he ran;  
At every Game the agree he won,  
For pith and speed  
The like of Habbie was not then,  
But now he's dead,   

And then beside his valiant Acts,  
At bridals he won many placs.  
He babbed ay behind Folks backs,  
And shook his Head,  
Now we want many merry Cracks  
Sen Habbie's dead.   

He was convoyer of the bride,  
With Kittock hanging at his side,  
About the Kirk he thought a pride  
the Ring to Lead  
But now she may go but a Guide  
For Habbie's dead.   

So well's he keeped his Decorum.  
And all the steps of Whip-meg morum,  
He slew a man and wae●s me for him  
And bare the seed.  
But yet the man won Hame before him  
and was not dead,   

Ay when he played the Lasses leugh,  
To sea him toothless, old and reuch  
He wan his Pipes beside Barcleugh  
Withouten dread,  
Which after won him Gear enough  
But now he's dead.   

Alas for him my heart is sare,  
For of his Springs I got a Share,  
At every play, Race, Feast and Fair,  
But Guile or 'greed  
We need not look for piping mair,  
Sen Habbie's dead,   
FINIS