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Signature of Robert Burns

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(Robert Burns, Tam O' Shanter) "But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white-then melts for ever; Or like the Borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the Rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm."

Epitaph on Holy Willie

Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay
Taks up its last abode;
His saul has ta'en some other way-
I fear, the left-hand road.

Stop! there he is, as sure's a gun!
Poor, silly body, see him!
Nae wonder he's as black's the grun-
Observe wha's standing wi' him!

Your brunstane Devilship, I see,
Has got him there before ye!
But haud your nine-tail cat a wee,
Till ance you've heard my story.

Your pity I will not implore,
For pity ye have nane,
Justice, alas! has gi'en him o'er,
And mercy's day is gane.

But hear me, Sir, Deil as ye are,
Look something to your credit;
A coof like him wad stain your name,
If it were kent ye did it!

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