SHORT syne there was a wretched miser,
With pinching had scrap'd up a treasure;
Yet frae his hoords he doughtna take
As much wou'd buy a mutton-stake,
Or take a glass to comfort nature;
But scrimply fed on crumbs and water:
In short, he famish'd 'midst his plenty;
Which made surviving kindred canty,
Wha scarcely for him pat on black,
And only in his loof a plack,
Which even they grudg'd. Sic is the way
Of them wha fa' upon the prey;
They'll scarce row up the wretch's feet,
Sae scrimp they make his winding-sheet,
Tho' he shou'd leave a vast estate,
And heaps of gowd like Arthur's Seat.
WELL, down the starving ghaist did sink,
Till it fell on the Stygian brink;
Where auld Van Charon stood and raught
His wither'd loof out for his fraught;
But them that wanted wherewitha',
He dang them back to stand and blaw.
The miser lang being us'd to save,
Fand this, and wadna passage crave,
But shaw'd the ferry-man a knack,
Jumpt in, — swam o'er, — and hain'd his plack.
Charon might damn, and sink and rore;
But a' in vain, — he gain'd the shore, —
Arriv'd: — the three pow'd dog of hell
Gowl'd terrible a treeple yell;
Which rouz'd the snaky sisters three,
Wha furious on this wight did flie,
Wha'd play'd the smugler on their coast,
By which Pluto his daes had lost:
Then brought him for this trick sae hainous
Afore the bench of Justice Minos.
THE case was new, and very kittle,
Which puzzl'd a' the court nae little;
Thought after thought with unco' speed
Flew round within the judge's head,
To find what punishment was due
For sic a daring crime and new.
Shou'd he the plague of Tantal feel,
Or stented be on Ixion's wheel,
Or stung wi' bauld Prometheus' pain,
Or help Sysiph to row his stane,
Or sent amang the wicked rout
To fill the tub that ay rins out?
"No, no," continues Minos. "No,
Weak are our punishments below
For sic a crime. He maun be hurl'd
Straight back again into the world.
I sentence him to see and hear
What use his friends make of his gear."
Short syne thare wes a wratchit maiser,
Wi pinchin haed scrapt up a traisur;
Yet frae his hoords he dochtna tek
As much wad buy a mutton stek,
Or tek a gless ti comfort naitur;
But scrimply fed on crums an waiter.
In short, he famished 'midst his plantie,
Whilk made survivin kindred cantie,
Wha scarcely for him pat on black,
An anely in his loof a plack,
Whilk even thay grudged. Sic is the wey
O thaim wha faw upon the prey;
Thay'll scarce rowe up the wratch's feet,
Sae scrimp thay mek his windin-sheet,
Tho he shoud leave a vast estett,
An heaps o gowd like Arthur's Set.
Weel, doon the stairvin ghaist did sink,
Till it fell on the Stygian brink,
Whair auld Van Charon stuid an raucht
His wuthered loof oot for his fraucht;
But thaim that wantit wherewithaw,
He dang thaim back ti stand an blaw.
The maiser lang bein yuised ti save,
Fand this, an wadna passage crave,
But shawed the ferry-man a knack,
Jimpt in, swam ower, an hained his plack.
Charon micht damn, an sink an rore,
But aw in vain, he gained the shore,
Arrived.
The three-powed dug o hell
Gowled terrible a treeple yell;
Whilk roosed the snakie sisters three,
Wha furious on this wicht did flee,
Wha'd played the smuggler on thair coast,
Bi whilk Pluto his dis haed lowst:
Than brocht him for this trick sae hainous
Afore the bench o Justice Minos.
The case wes new, an verra kittle,
Whilk puzzled aw the coort nae little;
Thocht efter thocht wi unco speed
Flew roond wi'in the juidge's heid,
Ti find what punishment wes due
For sic a darin crime an new.
Shoud he the plague o Tantal feel,
Or stentit be on Ixion's wheel,
Or stung wi bauld Prometheus' payne,
Or help Sysiph ti rowe his stane,
Or sent amang the wickit root
Ti fill the tub that aye rins oot?
"Na, na," continues Minos. "Na,
Waik err oor punishments ablaw
For sic a crime. He man be hurled
Straucht back again intil the warld.
Ah sentence him ti see an hear
What yiss his freens mek o his gear."