Robert Burns - Adam Armour's Prayer lyrics

Gude pity me, because I'm little! 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. An' now Thou kens our waefu' case; 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. An' now we're dern'd in dens and hollows, And hunted, as was William Wallace, Wi' constables-thae blackguard fallows, An' sodgers baith; But Gude preserve us frae the gallows, That shamefu' d**h! Auld grim black-bearded Geordie's sel'— 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. When d**h comes in wi' glimmerin blink, An' tips auld drucken Nanse the wink, May Sautan gie her doup a clink Within his yett, An' fill her up wi' brimstone drink, Red-reekin het. Though Jock an' hav'rel Jean are merry— 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! As for the jurr-puir worthless body! She's got mischief enough already; Wi' stanged hips, and bu*tocks bluidy She's suffer'd sair; But, may she wintle in a woody, If she wh-e mair!