Page:The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson, Vailima Edition, Volume 8, 1922.djvu/169

 UNDERWOODS

I

THE MAKER TO POSTERITY

AR 'yont amang the years to be,

When a' we think, an' a' we see,

An' a' we luve, 's, been dung ajee

By time's rouch shouther,

An' what was richt and wrang for me

Lies mangled throu'ther,

It's possible—it's hardly mair—

That some ane, ripin' after lear—

Some auld professor or young heir,

If still there's either—

May find an' read me, an' be sair

Perplexed, puir brither!

"What tongue does your auld bookie speak?"

He'll spier; an' I, his mou' to steik:

"No bein' fit to write in Greek,

I wrote in Lallan,

Dear to my heart as the peat-reek,

Auld as Tantallon.

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