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Robert Burns - Epitaph On Holy Willie
Work rating: Low

Here Holy Willie`s sair worn clay 
Taks up its last abode; 
His saul has ta`en some other way, 
I fear, the left-hand road. 
 
Stop! there he is, as sur`s a gun, 
Poor, silly body, see him; 
Nae wonder he`s as black`s the grun, 
Observe wha`s standing wi` him. 
 
Your brunstane devilship, I see, 
Has got him there before ye; 
But haud your nine-tail cat a wee, 
Till ance you`ve heard my story. 
 
Your pity I will not implore, 
For pity ye have nane; 
Justice, alas! has gi`en him o`er, 
And mercy`s day is gane. 
 
But hear me, Sir, deil as ye are, 
Look something to your credit; 
A coof like him wad stain your name, 
If it were kent ye did it.
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