Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
79 . Adam Armours Prayer
G
For though I am an elf o’ mettle,
An’ can, like ony wabster’s shuttle,
Jink there or here,
Yet, scarce as lang’s a gude kail-whittle,
I’m unco queer.
For Geordie’s jurr we’re in disgrace, Because we stang’d her through the place, An’ hurt her spleuchan; For whilk we daurna show our face Within the clachan. And hunted, as was William Wallace, Wi’ constables-thae blackguard fallows, An’ sodgers baith; But Gude preserve us frae the gallows, That shamefu’ death! O shake him owre the mouth o’ hell! There let him hing, an’ roar, an’ yell Wi’ hideous din, And if he offers to rebel, Then heave him in. An’ tips auld drucken Nanse the wink, Within his yett, An’ fill her up wi’ brimstone drink, Red-reekin het. Some devil seize them in a hurry, An’ waft them in th’ infernal wherry Straught through the lake, An’ gie their hides a noble curry Wi’ oil of aik! She’s got mischief enough already; Wi’ stanged hips, and buttocks bluidy She’s suffer’d sair; But, may she wintle in a woody, If she wh-e mair!