Poems and Songs of Robert Burns

  epitaph on holy willie
  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 sure'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.