Poem by Robert Burns

Epitaph on a Celebrated Ruling Elder

Here souter Hood in Death does sleep;
         To Hell, if he’s gone thither,
Satan, gie him thy gear to keep,
         He’ll haud it weel thegither.

1. Weary Fa’ You, Duncan Gray
2. Farewell to Ballochmyle
3. Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns
4. Simmer’s a Pleasant Time
5. Fairest Maid on Devon Banks

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