So when Burns knocked, Will knit his brows,
His window gap made scanter,
And said, “Go rouse the other house;
We lodge no Tam O’Shanter!”
“We lodge!” laughed Burns. “Now well I see
Death cannot kill old nature;
No human flea but thinks that he
May speak for his Creator!
VIII.
“But, Willie, friend, don’t turn me forth,
Auld Clootie needs no gauger;
And if on earth I had small worth,
You’ve let in worse, I’se wager!”
“Na, nane has knockit at the yett
But found me hard as whunstane;
There’s chances yet your bread to get
Wi Auld Nick, gaugin' brunstane.”
IX.
Meanwhile, the Unco' Guid had ta’en
Their place to watch the process,
Flattening in vain on many a pane
Their disembodied noses.
Remember, please, ’tis all a dream;
One can’t control the fancies
Through sleep that stream with wayward gleam,
Like midnight’s boreal dances.
X.
Old Willie’s tone grew sharp’s a knife:
“In primis, I indite ye,
For makin' strife wi' the water o' life,
And preferrin' aqua vitæ!”
Then roared a voice with lusty din,
Like a skipper’s when ’tis blowy,
“If that's a sin, I'd ne’er got in,
As sure as my name’s Noah!”
XI.
Baulked, Willie turned another leaf,—
“There’s many here have heard ye,
To the pain and grief o' true belief,
Say hard things o' the clergy!”
Then rang a clear tone over all,—
“One plea for him allow me:
I once heard call from o’er me, 'Saul,
Why persecutest thou me?'”