I mind it well--that poem on a louse!
'O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us,' Monk,
'To see oursels as others see us'--drunk;
'It wad frae monie a blunder free us'--list!--
'And foolish notion.' Abbot, bishop, priest,
'What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e' you all,
'And ev'n devotion.' Cowls and robes would fall,
And sometimes leave a bishop but a beast,
And show a leper sore where erst they made a priest."
[CW] Tripping. See Burns' "_Address to the Deil_"
Not to be beat the jolly monk filled up
His silver mug with rare old Burgundy;
"Here's to your health," he said, "your Majesty"--
And drained the brimming goblet at a gulp--
"'For when the Devil was sick the Devil a monk would be;
But when the Devil got well a devil a monk was he.'
_In vino veritas_ is true, no doubt--
When wine goes in teetotal truth comes out.
To shake a little Shakespeare in the wine:
'Some rise by sin and some by virtue fall';
But in the realm of Fate, as I opine,
A devil a virtue is or sin at all.
'The Devil be damned' is what we preach, you know it--
At mass and vespers, holy-bread and dinner:
From priest to pope, from pedagogue to poet,
We sanctify the sin and damn the sinner.
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