Aye mon, it's true; I'm no that weel. Close prisoner to my lord the de'il, As weak 's a bit o' aipple peel, Or ingan parin', Packed like a codfish in a creel, I lie disparin'. Mon, it's a cur-ous thing to think How bodies sleep and eat and drink; I'm no that weel, but micht be waur An' doubt na mony bodies are. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVER MOURNS FOR THE LOSS OF LOVE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS AELLA: MINSTREL'S MARRIAGE-SONG by THOMAS CHATTERTON THE SANDS OF DEE by CHARLES KINGSLEY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 83. BARREN SPRING by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONNET: 24 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE MUSIC OF HUNGARY by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH AUTUMN by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE LEISTON ABBEY by BERNARD BARTON URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: DEDICATION TO HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES by WILLIAM BASSE |