Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/234
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THE POEMS OF BURNS.
EPITAPH ON A HENPECK'D COUNTRY SQUIRE.
As father Adam first was fool'd,
A case that's still too common,
Here lies a man a woman rul'd,
The Devil rul'd the woman.
A case that's still too common,
Here lies a man a woman rul'd,
The Devil rul'd the woman.
EPIGRAM ON SAID OCCASION.
O Death, hadst thou but spar'd his life
Whom we, this day, lament!
We freely wad exchang'd the wife,
And a' been weel content.
Whom we, this day, lament!
We freely wad exchang'd the wife,
And a' been weel content.
Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff,
The swap we yet will do't;
Take thou the carlin's carcase aff,
Thou'se get the saul o' boot.
The swap we yet will do't;
Take thou the carlin's carcase aff,
Thou'se get the saul o' boot.
ANOTHER.
One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,
When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well,
In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd her,
She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder.
When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well,
In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd her,
She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder.
But Queen Netherplace, of a diff'rent complexion,
When called on to order the fun'ral direction,
Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pretence,
Not to shew her respect, but—to save the expense.
When called on to order the fun'ral direction,
Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pretence,
Not to shew her respect, but—to save the expense.
ON HEARING THAT THERE WAS FALSEHOOD IN THE REV. DR. B———'S VERY LOOKS.
That there is falsehood in his looks
I must and will deny;
They say their master is a knave—
And sure they do not lie.
I must and will deny;
They say their master is a knave—
And sure they do not lie.
EXTEMPORANEOUS EFFUSION,
ON BEING APPOINTED TO THE EXCISE.
Searching auld wives' barrels,
Och, hon the day!
That clarty barm should stain my laurels;
But—what'll ye say
These movin' things, ca'd wives and weans,
Wad move the very hearts o' stanes!
Och, hon the day!
That clarty barm should stain my laurels;
But—what'll ye say
These movin' things, ca'd wives and weans,
Wad move the very hearts o' stanes!