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.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...