Robert Burns: How To Know Him Part 40

Some luckless hour will send him linkin', [hurrying]

To your black pit; But faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin', [dodging]

An' cheat you yet.

But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben!

O wad ye tak a thought an' men'! [mend]

Ye aiblins might--I dinna ken-- [perhaps]

Still hae a stake: I'm wae to think upo' yon den, Ev'n for your sake!

Somewhat akin in nature is _Death and Doctor Hornbook_. The purpose is personal satire, Doctor Hornbook being a real person, John Wilson, a schoolmaster in Tarbolton, who had turned quack and apothecary. The figure of Death is an amazingly graphic creation, with its mixture of weirdness and familiar humor; while the attack on Hornbook is managed with consummate skill. Death is made to complain that the doctor is balking him of his legitimate prey, and the drift seems to be complimentary; when in the last few verses it appears that in compensation Hornbook kills far more than he cures.

DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK

Some books are lies frae end to end, And some great lies were never penn'd: Ev'n ministers, they hae been kenn'd, [known]

In holy rapture, A rousing whid at times to vend, [fib]

And nail't wi' Scripture.

But this that I am gaun to tell, [going]

Which lately on a night befell, Is just as true's the Deil's in h.e.l.l Or Dublin city: That e'er he nearer comes oursel 'S a muckle pity. [great]

The clachan yill had made me canty, [village age, cheerful]

I wasna fou, but just had plenty; [full]

I stacher'd whyles, but yet took tent aye [staggered, heed]

To free the ditches; [clear]

An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes kent aye Frae ghaists an' witches.

The rising moon began to glowre [stare]

The distant c.u.mnock hills out-owre; [above]

To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r, I set mysel; But whether she had three or four I cou'd na tell.

I was come round about the hill, And todlin' down on Willie's mill, Setting my staff, wi' a' my skill, To keep me sicker; [secure]

Tho' leeward whyles, against my will, I took a bicker. [run]

I there wi' _Something_ does forgather, [meet]

That pat me in an eerie swither; [put, ghostly dread]

An awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouther, [across one shoulder]

Gear-dangling, hang; [hung]

A three-tae'd leister on the ither [-toed fish-spear]

Lay large an' lang.

Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa, The queerest shape that e'er I saw, For fient a wame it had ava: [devil a belly, at all]

And then its shanks, They were as thin, as sharp an' sma'

As cheeks o' branks. [sides of an ox's bridle]

'Guid-een,' quo' I; 'Friend! hae ye been mawin, [Good-evening, mowing]

When ither folk are busy sawin?' [sowing]

It seem'd to mak a kind o' stan', But naething spak; At length says I, 'Friend, wh'are ye gaun? [going]

Will ye go back?'

It spak right howe: 'My name is Death, [hollow]

But be na fley'd.'--Quoth I, 'Guid faith, [frightened]

Ye're maybe come to stap my breath; But tent me, billie: [heed, fellow]

I red ye weel, tak care o' skaith, [advise, harm]

See, there's a gully!' [big knife]

'Gudeman,' quo' he, 'put up your whittle, [knife]

I'm no design'd to try its mettle; But if I did--I wad be kittle [ticklish]

To be mislear'd-- [if mischievous]

I wad na mind it, no that spittle Out-owre my beard.' [Over]

'Weel, weel!' says I, 'a bargain be't; Come, gies your hand, an' sae we're gree't; [give us, agreed]

We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat-- Come, gies your news; This while ye hae been mony a gate, [road]

At mony a house.'

'Ay, ay!' quo' he, an' shook his head, 'It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed Sin' I began to nick the thread, An' choke the breath: Folk maun do something for their bread, [must]

An' sae maun Death.

'Sax thousand years are near-hand fled, [well-nigh]

Sin' I was to the hutching bred; [butchering]

An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid To stap or scaur me; [stop, scare]

Till ane Hornbook's ta'en up the trade, An' faith! he'll waur me. [worst]

'Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the clachan-- [village]

Deil mak his king's-hood in a spleuchan! [second stomach, tobacco pouch]

He's grown sae well acquaint wi' Buchan [(Author of _Domestic Medicine_)]

An' ither chaps, The weans haud out their fingers laughin', [children]

And pouk my hips. [poke]

'See, here's a scythe, and there's a dart-- They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart; But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art And cursed skill, Has made them baith no worth a fart; d.a.m.n'd haet they'll kill. [Devil a thing]

''Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane, [last night]

I threw a n.o.ble throw at ane-- Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain-- But deil-ma-care!

It just play'd dirl on the bane, [rang, bone]

But did nae mair.

'Hornbook was by wi' ready art, And had sae fortified the part That, when I looked to my dart, It was sae blunt, Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart [Devil a bit]

O' a kail-runt. [cabbage stalk]

'I drew my scythe in sic a fury I near-hand cowpit wi' my hurry, [upset]

But yet the bauld Apothecary Withstood the shock; I might as weel hae tried a quarry O' hard whin rock.

'E'en them he canna get attended, Altho' their face he ne'er had kenn'd it, Just sh-- in a kail-blade, and send it, [cabbage-leaf]

As soon's he smells't, Baith their disease, and what will mend it, At once he tells't.

'And then a' doctor's saws and whittles, Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, He's sure to hae; Their Latin names as fast he rattles As A B C.

'_Calces_ o' fossils, earths, and trees; True _sal-marinum_ o' the seas; The _farina_ of beans and pease, He has't in plenty; _Aqua-fortis_, what you please, He can content ye.

'Forbye some new uncommon weapons,-- [Besides]