AE day, as Death, that gruesome carl,
Was driving to the tither warl
A mixtie-maxtie motley squad,
And mony a guilt-bespotted lad
Black gowns of each denomination,
And thieves of every rank and station,
From him that wears the star and garter,
To him that wintles in a halter:
Ashamed himself to see the wretches,
He mutters, glowrin at the bitches,
By Gd Ill not be seen behint them,
Nor mang the spritual core present them,
Without, at least, ae honest man,
To grace this dd infernal clan!
By Adamhill a glance he threw,
Ld Gd! quoth he, I have it now;
Theres just the man I want, i faith!
And quickly stoppit Rankines breath.
52. Epitaph on John Rankine
written byRobert Burns
© Robert Burns