AE day, as Death, that gruesome carl, <br />Was driving to the tither warl' <br />A mixtie-maxtie motley squad, <br />And mony a guilt-bespotted lad— <br />Black gowns of each denomination, <br />And thieves of every rank and station, <br />From him that wears the star and garter, <br />To him that wintles in a halter: <br />Ashamed himself to see the wretches, <br />He mutters, glowrin at the bitches, <br />"By G—d I'll not be seen behint them, <br />Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present them, <br />Without, at least, ae honest man, <br />To grace this d—d infernal clan!" <br />By Adamhill a glance he threw, <br />"L—d G—d!" quoth he, "I have it now; <br />There's just the man I want, i' faith!" <br />And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epitaph-on-john-rankine/
