Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/78

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And when ye're number'd wi' the dead,
 Below a grassy hillock,
Wi' justice they may mark your head—
 "Here lies a famous Bullock!"

 

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ADDRESS to the DIEL.

 

O Prince! O Chief of many-throned Pow'rs,
That led th' embattl'd Seraphim to war———
Milton.

 

O thou, whatever title suit thee,
 Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,
Wha in your cavern grim or Sootie,
Clos'd under hatches,
Spairges about the brunstane cootie,
To scaud poor wretchesǃ

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
And let poor damned bodies be;
I'm sure sma pleasure it can gie,
Ev'n to a diel,
To skelp and scauld poor dogs like me,
And hear us squeel!

Great is thy pow'r, and great thy fameǃ
Far kend and noted is thy nameǃ
And tho yon lowan heugh's thy hame,
Thou travels far:
And faith thou's neither lag nor lame,
Nor blate, nor scaur.