Classic Poem

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
Fling aff sic loads whene'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.”

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.”

But still the sinner sighs and sobs,
And cries, “Ah! these are venial jobs,
“To the black crime that yet behind
“Lies 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 man 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.”