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But a' your doings to rehearse,
Your wily snares and fechtin fierce,
Sin that day Michael[1] did you pierce,
Down to this time,
Wad ding a Lallan tongue, or Erse,
In prose or rhyme.
Your wily snares and fechtin fierce,
Sin that day Michael[1] did you pierce,
Down to this time,
Wad ding a Lallan tongue, or Erse,
In prose or rhyme.
And now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin,
A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin,
Some luckless hour will send him linkin
To your black pit;
But faith he'll turn a corner jinkin,
And cheat you yet.
A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin,
Some luckless hour will send him linkin
To your black pit;
But faith he'll turn a corner jinkin,
And cheat you yet.
But fare ye weel, auld Nickie-ben;
O wad ye tak a thought and men',
Ye ablins might—I dinna ken—
Still hae a stake—
I'm wae to think upon your den,
Ev'n for your sake.
O wad ye tak a thought and men',
Ye ablins might—I dinna ken—
Still hae a stake—
I'm wae to think upon your den,
Ev'n for your sake.
Holy Willie's Prayer.
O Thou, wha in the heavens do dwell,
Wha, as it pleases best thysel',
Sends ane to heaven, and ten to hell,
A' for thy glory,
And no for any gude or ill
They've done afore theeǃ
Wha, as it pleases best thysel',
Sends ane to heaven, and ten to hell,
A' for thy glory,
And no for any gude or ill
They've done afore theeǃ
- ↑ Vide Milton, Book IV.
