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But hear me, sir, deil as ye are,
Look something to your credit;
If it were kent ye did it.
ADDRESS TO THE DEIL.
ROBERT BURNS. “O Prince! O Chief of many throned Pow'rs, That led th' embattled Seraphim to war!".-
Closed under hatches,
To scaud poor wretches !
Hear me, auld Ilangie, for a wee,
Een to a deil
, To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,
An' hear us squeel!
Great is thy power, an' great thy fame;
Thou travels far:
Nor blate nor scaur.
Whyles, ranging like a roaring lion,
Tirlin the kirks;
Unseen thou lurks.
I've heard my reverend Grannie say,
Or where auld ruin'd castles, gray,
Nod to the moon, Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way
Wi' eldritch croon.
When twilight did my Grannie summon
Wi' eerie drone;
Wi' heavy groan.
Ae dreary, windy, winter night,
Ayont the lough;
Wi' waving sough.
The cudgel in my nieve did shake,
Amang the springs,
On whistling wings.
Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags,
Wi' wicked speed;
Owre howkit dead.
Thence countra wives, wi' toil an' pain,
By witching skill;
As yell's the bill.
Thence mystic knots mak great abuse
When the best wark-lume i' the house,
By cantrip wit, Is instant made no worth a louse,
Just at the bit.
When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
By your direction; An' nighted trav'lers are allur'd
To their destruction.
An' aft your moss-traversing spunkies Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is : The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkeys
Delude his eyes, Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
Ne'er mair to rise.
When masons' mystic word an' grip
Or, strange to tell !
Aff straught to hell!
Lang syne, in Eden's bonnie yard, When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd, An' all the soul of love they shar'd,
The raptur'd hour, Sweet on the fragrant, flow'ry sward,
In shady bow'r:
Then you, ye auld, snec-drawing dog!
(Black be your fa' !) An' gied the infant warld a shog,
Maist ruin'd a'.
D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz,
Ye did present your smoutie phiz
Mang better folk,
Your spitefu' joke?
An' how ye gat him i' your thrall,
Wi' bitter claw,
Was warst ava?
But a' your doings to rehearse,
Down to this time,
In prose or rhyme.
An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin',
To your black pit;
An' cheat you yet.
But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben!
Still hae a stake-
Ev'n for your sake!!
THE DEVIL'S WALK ON EARTH.
From his brimstone bed at break of day
A walking the Devil is gone,
And see how his stock went on.
Over the hill and over the dale,
And he went over the plain;
As a gentleman swishes a cane.
How then was the Devil drest?
Oh, he was in his Sunday's best
A lady drove by in her pride,
For which he could have kiss'd her;
If my dam had had a sister.
He met a lord of high degree,
No matter what was his name;
The expression, the look, and the air,
That it made the Devil start and stare,
But he could not see the frame.
He saw a Lawyer killing a viper,
On a dung-hill beside his stable; Hal quoth he, thou put'st me in mind
Of the story of Cain and Abel.
An Apothecary on a white horse
Rode by on his vocation;
Death in the Revelation.
He pass'd a cottage with a double coach-house,
A cottage of gentility, And he own'd with a grin That his favorite sin,
Is pride that apes humility