This Side An' That.

The rich man sat in his father's seat--         Purple an' linen, an' a'thing fine!     The puir man lay at his yett i' the street--         Sairs an' tatters, an' weary pine!     To the rich man's table ilk dainty comes,         Mony a morsel gaed frae't, or fell;     The puir man fain wud hae dined on the crumbs,         But whether he got them I canna tell.     Servants prood, saft-fittit, an' stoot,         Stan by the rich man's curtained doors;     Maisterless dogs 'at rin aboot         Cam to the puir man an' lickit his sores.     The rich man deeit, an' they buried him gran',         In linen fine his body they wrap;     But the angels tuik up the beggar man,         An' layit him doun in Abraham's lap.     The guid upo' this side, the ill upo' that--         Sic was the rich man's waesome fa'!     But his brithers they eat, an' they drink, an' they chat,         An' carena a strae for their Father's ha'!     The trowth's the trowth, think what ye will;         An' some they kenna what they wad be at;     But the beggar man thoucht he did no that ill,         Wi' the dogs o' this side, the angels o' that!