The works of Allan Ramsay edited by Burns Martin ... and John W. Oliver [... and Alexander M. Kinghorn ... and Alexander Law] |
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Tit for Tat.
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 | The works of Allan Ramsay |  |
Tit for Tat.
Be-south our Channel, where 'tis common
To be Priest-ridden, Man and Woman;
A Father, anes in grave Procession,
Went to receive a Wight's Confession,
Whase Sins, lang-gather'd, now began
To burden sair his inner Man.
But happy they that can with Ease
Sling aff sic Laids when e'er they please.
Lug out your Sins, and eke your Purses,
And soon your kind spiritual Nurses
Will ease you of these heavy Turses.
To be Priest-ridden, Man and Woman;
A Father, anes in grave Procession,
Went to receive a Wight's Confession,
Whase Sins, lang-gather'd, now began
To burden sair his inner Man.
But happy they that can with Ease
Sling aff sic Laids when e'er they please.
Lug out your Sins, and eke your Purses,
And soon your kind spiritual Nurses
Will ease you of these heavy Turses.
Cries
Hodge, and sighs, Ah! Father Ghostly,
I lang'd anes for some Jewels costly,
And staw them frae a sneaking Miser,
Wha was a wicked cheating Squeezer,
And much had me and others wrang'd,
For which I aften wish'd him hang'd.
The Father says, I own, my Son,
To rob or pilfer is ill done;
But I can eith forgive the Faut,
Since it is only Tit for Tat.
I lang'd anes for some Jewels costly,
And staw them frae a sneaking Miser,
Wha was a wicked cheating Squeezer,
And much had me and others wrang'd,
For which I aften wish'd him hang'd.
The Father says, I own, my Son,
To rob or pilfer is ill done;
But I can eith forgive the Faut,
Since it is only Tit for Tat.
69
The sighing Penitent gade furder,
And own'd his anes designing Murder;
That he had lent ane's Guts a Skreed,
Wha had gi'en him a broken Head.
Replies the Priest, My Son, 'tis plain
That's only Tit for Tat again.
And own'd his anes designing Murder;
That he had lent ane's Guts a Skreed,
Wha had gi'en him a broken Head.
Replies the Priest, My Son, 'tis plain
That's only Tit for Tat again.
But still the Sinner sighs and sobs,
And cries, Ah! these are venial Jobs
To the black Crime that yet behind
Lyes like Auld Nick upon my Mind:
I dare na name't; I'd lure be strung
Up by the Neck, or by the Tongue,
As speak it out to you: Believe me,
The Faut you never wad forgive me.
The haly Man, with pious Care,
Intreated, pray'd, and spake him fair,
Conjur'd him, as he hop'd for Heaven,
To tell his Crime, and be forgiven.
And cries, Ah! these are venial Jobs
To the black Crime that yet behind
Lyes like Auld Nick upon my Mind:
I dare na name't; I'd lure be strung
Up by the Neck, or by the Tongue,
As speak it out to you: Believe me,
The Faut you never wad forgive me.
The haly Man, with pious Care,
Intreated, pray'd, and spake him fair,
Conjur'd him, as he hop'd for Heaven,
To tell his Crime, and be forgiven.
Well then, says Hodge, if it maun be,
Prepare to hear a Tale frae me,
That when 'tis tald, I'm unko feard
Ye'll wish it never had been heard.
Ah me! your Reverence's Sister,
Ten times I carnally have—kist her.
All's fair, returns the Reverend Brother,
I've done the samen with your Mother
Three times as aft; and sae for that
We're on a Level, Tit for Tat.
Prepare to hear a Tale frae me,
That when 'tis tald, I'm unko feard
Ye'll wish it never had been heard.
Ah me! your Reverence's Sister,
Ten times I carnally have—kist her.
All's fair, returns the Reverend Brother,
I've done the samen with your Mother
Three times as aft; and sae for that
We're on a Level, Tit for Tat.
| The works of Allan Ramsay | |