Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay Taks up its last abode; His saul has ta'en some other way, I fear, the left-hand road. Stop! there he is, as sure's a gun, Poor, silly body, see him; Nae wonder he's as black's the grun, Observe wha's standing wi' him. Your brunstane devilship, I see, Has got him there before ye; But haud your nine-tail cat a wee, Till ance you've heard my story. Your pity I will not implore, For pity ye have nane; Justice, alas! has gi'en him o'er, And mercy's day is gane. But hear me, Sir, deil as ye are, Look something to your credit; A coof like him wad stain your name, If it were kent ye did it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO THE RIVER OTTER by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE SOUL AND BODY by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE TO THE NIGHTINGALE by PHILIP AYRES A DAY REMORSEFUL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN WHAT MAN BUT GOD? by P. J. CAZELLO SONNET: HE RAILS AGAINST DANTE, WHO CENSURED HIS HOMAGE TO BECCHINA by CECCO ANGIOLIERI DA SIENA ODE; TO LOVE by CHARLES COTTON OLNEY HYMNS: 4. JEHOVAH-NISSI, THE LORD IS MY BANNER by WILLIAM COWPER |