John Dun


The Deilís Answer to His Verra Friend, Robert Burns


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

Gif thou gang on the gate thouís gaun, 
Ilk fearless fiend shall by thee staní, 
That bows aneath my high commaní:
	Sae, be ÔŗŚ frightet. 
For I shall send my helpiní baní
	To see thee rightet.

Thou doee as weelís oould be expectit 
Oí ane whaíe wit lay lang neglected, 
Some godly folk your rhyme I trow
	Caí worthless blether; 
But be na fearít, yeís get your due
	When we forgether.

Sae fearít Iím for the gospel gun: 
To see my frienís I canna win; 
But tell sic chiels as you, my son,
	Iíll see them soon, 
Aní thee, aní meíe hae curious fun
	Ere aí be done.

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

As Judas, too, richt bauld aní leal, 
Wha served wií perfect heart the Deil, 
Aní playíd his part Iím sure as weel
	As ony breathing; 
Till ance he hanged himselí puir chiel,
	But that was naething.

In Hell when I read owre your sang, 
Where rhymes camí thundíriní wií a bang, 
Quoth I, trouth Iíe see Rab or lang,
	Aní thatís 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, 
Aní giff thouís aye as stout aní baul
	As Iím a Deil, 
Thouís no give up till thouíe right aulí,
	Sae fare thee weel.






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