A shaggy poulp, embracin’ me and stingin’,
And as a serpent cauld agen’ my hert.
Its scales are poisoned shafts that jag me to the quick
—And waur than them’s my scunner’s fearfu’ smert!
O that its prickles were a knife indeed,
But it is thowless, flabby, dowf, and numb.
Sae sluggishly it drains my benmaist life
A dozent dragon, dreidfu’, deef, and dumb.
In mum obscurity it twines its obstinate rings
And hings caressin’ly, its purpose whole;