58. Epitaph on Holy Willie
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.
Poem by
Robert Burns
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Robert Burns
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on 58. Epitaph on Holy Willie
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem 58. Epitaph on Holy Willie here.