Page:Satan's warehouse door, or, Water Willie's new mode of purifying his hands.pdf/9

9 Now wi’ humility an’ rue,

Already he has cram’d them,

And left them just as scant o’ woo

As when their mothers lamb’d them—

Thus he rescues them frae the Tod,

Tho’ maist within his clutches,

A double aim—It serves his God,

And fills his greedy poutches.

But then, to save the thoughtless brutes,

That here and there had dauner’d,

Sae eager were his sharp look-outs,

That he himsel’ has wander’d;

He thinks na he’s sae near the den

Where Lowrie lurks to watch him,

He blindly goes, nor well he ken,

Till he spring out and snatch him.

See! yonder stands the dismal gate,

Just opening to receive them,

Whilst their last hope, to hear it grate,

Is on the wing to leave them:

Hae, put this trumpet to your lug.

And for a weeock rest ye,

Then ye shall hear, and see incog.

Wi’ naething to molest ye!’