Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Epitaph On Holy Willie - Poem by Robert Burns

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.


Comments about Epitaph On Holy Willie by Robert Burns

  • (1/14/2011 9:41:00 AM)


    Should be read together with Burn's other 'Holy Willie' poems. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: justice, cat, fear



Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 13, 2001



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