Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 58. Epitaph on Holy Willie |
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| 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. | |
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| Stop! there he is, as sure’s a gun, | 5 |
| Poor, silly body, see him; | |
| Nae wonder he’s as black’s the grun, | |
| Observe wha’s standing wi’ him. | |
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| Your brunstane devilship, I see, | |
| Has got him there before ye; | 10 |
| But haud your nine-tail cat a wee, | |
| Till ance you’ve heard my story. | |
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| Your pity I will not implore, | |
| For pity ye have nane; | |
| Justice, alas! has gi’en him o’er, | 15 |
| And mercy’s day is gane. | |
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| 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. | 20 |
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