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Poem by John Dun


The Deils Answer to His Verra Friend, Robert Burns


So, zealous Robin, stout an fell  
True champion for the cause of Hell  
Thou beats the righteous down pell-mell;
	Sae from an forthy, 
That o a seat where Devils dwell
	Theres nane mair worthy

Gif thou gang on the gate thous gaun, 
Ilk fearless fiend shall by thee stan, 
That bows aneath my high comman:
	Sae, be  frightet. 
For I shall send my helpin ban
	To see thee rightet.

Thou doee as weels oould be expectit 
O ane whae wit lay lang neglected, 
Some godly folk your rhyme I trow
	Ca worthless blether; 
But be na feart, yes get your due
	When we forgether.

Sae feart Im for the gospel gun: 
To see my friens I canna win; 
But tell sic chiels as you, my son,
	Ill see them soon, 
An thee, an mee hae curious fun
	Ere a be done.

The Endor Witch wha livd lang eyne 
Was a richt honest freen o mine. 
An Hainan, wha in tale shall shine
	For zeal an spite; 
But nane o them did feats like thine
	In black and white.

As Judas, too, richt bauld an leal, 
Wha served wi perfect heart the Deil, 
An playd his part Im sure as weel
	As ony breathing; 
Till ance he hanged himsel puir chiel,
	But that was naething.

In Hell when I read owre your sang, 
Where rhymes cam thundrin wi a bang, 
Quoth I, trouth Ie see Rab or lang,
	An thats be seen, 
Giff Nick should on me ride the stang
	To Aberdeen.

Now, Rab, my lad, cheer up thy saul, 
In Goechen thou shalt tent thy faul, 
An giff thous aye as stout an baul
	As Im a Deil, 
Thous no give up till thoue right aul,
	Sae fare thee weel.



John Dun

Poem Theme: Robert Burns

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