7
Wow! Seestu, thou's a precious batch
O' modern divinity,
Auld Horn himsel' they only match
In darkness, and affinity,
What vile unhallowed things they hatch,
and stab wi' sic serenity,
May heaven preserve me frae' a swatch
O' this, their Godly lenity,
Hech, hech, this day.
Detested bablers! did you dare
Expose your ane vulgarity?
And prat, 'mid persecution's war,
O' Christian love and charity;
The tyrant Nero! Russian Czar!
Sae famed for their severity,
Mehemet Ali's scymetar,
Had struck wi less barbarity
Then you ae day.
Plain sence is what ye daurna claim:
That ilka Caput Crack'd is
Quite easy Proved; since common fame
Shaw's realy what yere tact is.
Void! fairly void! o' ought like shame,
And this the glarin' fact is;
Lord, but religion's holy name
Is far aboon your practice
And pith this day.
God help the sons o' Poverty,
Its they maun stan' the charge aye,
Defrauded by the powers that be
A rotten state and clergy;
You'r damn'd on earth wi' misery,
Nane carin' tae enlarge ye.
