Curse Thou his basket and his store,Kail an' potatoes.Lord, hear my earnest cry and pray'r,Against that Presbyt'ry o' Ayr;Thy strong right hand, Lord, make it bareUpo' their heads;Lord visit them, an' dinna spare,For their misdeeds.O Lord, my God! that glib-tongu'd Aiken,My vera heart and flesh are quakin,To think how we stood sweatin', shakin,An' p-'d wi' dread,While he, wi' hingin lip an' snakin,Held up his head.Lord, in Thy day o' vengeance try him,Lord, visit them wha did employ him,And pass not in Thy mercy by 'em, Nor hear their pray'r,But for Thy people's sake, destroy 'em,An' dinna spare.But, Lord, remember me an' mineWi' mercies temp'ral an' divine,That I for grace an' gear may shine,Excell'd by nane,And a' the glory shall be thine,Amen, Amen!
Epitaph On Holy Willie
Here Holy Willie's sair worn clayTaks 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;3