EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE.
Here Holy Willie's sair-worn clay
Tak's up its last abode;
His saul has ta'en some ither 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[228] 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 ha'e nane;
Justice, alas! has gi'en him o'er,
And mercy's day is gane.
But hear me, sir, de'il as ye are,
Look something to your credit;
A coof[229] like him wad stain your name,
If it were kent ye did it.
[223] troubled.
[224] cards.
[225] great and small.
[226] row.
[227] wealth.
[228] brimstone.
[229] fool.