The bargain lookit fair eneugh-
She just was turn'd o' saxty-three-
I couldna guess'd she'd prove sae teugh,1
By human ingenuity.

But years have come, and years have gane,
And there she's yet as stieve's a stane-
The limmer's growin' young again,

Since she got her annuity.

She's crined3 awa' to bane an' skin.
But that it seems is nought to me.
She's like to live-although she's in
The last stage o' tenuity.

She munches wi' her wizen'd gums,

An' stumps about on legs o' thrums,+

But comes-as sure as Christmas comes-
To ca' for her annuity.

I read the tables drawn wi' care

For an Insurance Company;

Her chance o' life was stated there,

Wi' perfect perspicuity.

But tables here or tables there,

She's lived ten years beyond her share,

An's like to live a dozen mair,

To ca' for her annuity.

Last Yule she had a fearfu' hoast 5

I thought a kink might set me free

I led her out, 'mang snaw and frost,
Wi' constant assiduity.

But Diel ma' care-the blast gaed by,

And miss'd the auld anatomy

It just cost me a tooth, forbye
Discharging her annuity.

If there's a sough o' cholera

Or typhus-wha sae gleg9 as she!
She buys up baths, an' drugs, an a',
In siccan superfluity!

She doesna need-she's fever proof--
very

The pest walk'd o'er her roof-
She tauld me sae- -an' then her loof 10
Held out for her annuity.

Ae day she fell her arm she brak—--
A compound fracture as could be—
Nae Leech the cure wad undertak,
Whate'er was the gratuity.

It's cured!-She handles't like a flail-
It does as weel in bits as hale-
But I'm a broken man myseľ

Wi' her and her annuity.

Her broozled flesh and broken banes,
Are weel as flesh an' banes can be.
She beats the taeds 12 that live in stanes,
An' fatten in vacuity!

They die when they're exposed to air-
They canna thole 13 the atmosphere-
But her!-expose her onywhere—
She lives for her annuity.

If mortal means could nick her thread,
Sma' crime it wad appear to me--

Ca't murder—or ca't homicide

I'd justify 't-an' do it tae.

But how to fell a wither'd wife

That's carved out o' the tree o' life

The timmer limmer daurs 14 the knife
To settle her annuity.

9 Sharp.

13 Endure.

10 Hand.

11 Bruised.

The wooden hussy dares.

12 Toads.

I'd try a shot.

But whar's the mark?

Her vital parts are hid frae me. Her back-bane wanders through her sark In an unkenn'd corkscrewity. She's palsified-an' shakes her head Sae fast about, ye scarce can see't— It's past the power o' steel or lead To settle her annuity.

she'll not

She might be drown'd ;—but go
Within a mile o' loch or sea ;—

Or hang'd-if cord could grip a throat
O'siccan exiguity.

It's fitter far to hang the rope

It draws out like a telescope

"Twad tak a dreadfu' length o' drop

To settle her annuity.

Will puzion 15 do't?-It has been tried.
But, be't in hash or fricassee,
That's just the dish she can't abide,
Whatever kind o' gout it hae.
It's needless to assail her doubts-

She gangs by instinet,-like the brutes,-
An' only eats an' drinks what suits
Hersel' and her annuity.

The Bible says the age o' man

Threescore and ten perchance may be. She's ninety-four.-Let them wha can Explain the incongruity.

She should hac lived afore the flood

She's come o' Patriarchal blood

She's some auld Pagan mummified
Alive for her annuity.

15 Poison.

She's been embalm'd inside and out-
She's sauted to the last degree-
There's pickle in her very snout
Sae caper-like an' cruety,

Lot's wife was fresh compared to her—
They've Kyanized the useless knir 16.
She canna decompose―nae mair
Than her accursed annuity.

The water-drap wears out the rock
As this eternal jaud wears me.
I could withstand the single shock,
But not the continuity.

It's

pay me here-an' pay me thereAn' pay me, pay me, evermair— I'll gang demented wi' despairI'm charged for her annuity.

16 Witch.

H, 'tis time I should talk to your mother,
Sweet Mary," says I;

"Oh, don't talk to my mother," says Mary,

Beginning to cry:

"For my mother says men are deceivers,

And never, I know, will consent;

She says girls in a hurry who marry,
At leisure repent."

"Then, suppose I would talk to your father, Sweet Mary," says I;

"Oh, don't talk to my father," says Mary,

Beginning to cry :