In the country places

HORACE, CAR. I. 34
PARCUS DEORUM
I hadna crossed the Aul’ Kirk door for mony a year an’ day;
Quo’ I, “ When a’thing’s fore-ordained it’s little eese to pray; ”
But noo when Sunday mornin’ comes I hearken for the bell,
An’ few set oot in runkled blacks mair eager than mysel’.
For God Almichty in the past micht fyles forget his ain
When craps were connached noo an’ than wi’ weet or want o’
rain;
But, Sirs ! o’ late, while boastin’ men are warslin’ wi’ the flu,
Frail wives in soakit shawls an’ sheen are stervin’ P the queue.
An’ owre the sea it’s waur than that. The Marne is rinnin’ reid,
The lang canals an’ saughy burns are dammed wi’ German deid ;
An’ bonny Wipers, braw Louvain, an’ France’s fairest touns,
Cathedrals, hospitals an’ a’ are levelled to the founs.
But noo the Kaiser an’ his Kings are skirtin’ fae the Ian*;
They seen got youkie roon the chouks when God put tee a han’;
An’ Fortune like an aeroplane comes loopin’ doon the blue.
An’ kills a Czar to place in pooer some raggit Russian Jew.