The Auld Man's Prayer

Lord, I'm an auld man,         An' I'm deein!     An' do what I can         I canna help bein     Some feart at the thoucht!     I'm no what I oucht!     An' thou art sae gran',     Me but an auld man!     I haena gotten muckle         Guid o' the warld;     Though siller a puckle         Thegither I hae harlt,     Noo I maun be rid o' 't,     The ill an' the guid o' 't!     An' I wud--I s' no back frae 't--     Rather put til 't nor tak frae 't!     It's a pity a body         Coudna haud on here,     Puttin cloddy to cloddy         Till he had a bit lan' here!--     But eh I'm forgettin     Whaur the tide's settin!     It'll pusion my prayer     Till it's no worth a hair!     It's awfu, it's awfu         To think 'at I'm gaein     Whaur a' 's ower wi' the lawfu,         Whaur's an en' til a' haein!     It's gruesome to en'     The thing 'at ye ken,     An' gang to begin til     What ye canna see intil!     Thou may weel turn awa,         Lord, an' say it's a shame     'At noo I suld ca'         On thy licht-giein name     Wha my lang life-time     Wud no see a stime!     An' the fac' there's no fleein--     But hae pity--I'm deein!     I'm thine ain efter a'--         The waur shame I'm nae better!     Dinna sen' me awa,         Dinna curse a puir cratur!     I never jist cheatit--     I own I defeatit,     Gart his poverty tell     On him 'at maun sell!     Oh that my probation         Had lain i' some region     Whaur was less consideration         For gear mixt wi' religion!     It's the mixin the twa     'At jist ruins a'!     That kirk's the deil's place     Whaur gear glorifees grace!     I hae learnt nought but ae thing         'At life's but a span!     I hae warslet for naething!         I hae noucht i' my han'!     At the fut o' the stairs     I'm sayin my prayers:--     Lord, lat the auld loon     Confess an' lie doon.     I hae been an ill man--         Micht hae made a guid dog!     I could rin though no stan--         Micht hae won throu a bog!     But 't was ower easy gaein,     An' I set me to playin!     Dinna sen' me awa     Whaur's no licht ava!     Forgie me an' hap me!         I hae been a sharp thorn.     But, oh, dinna drap me!         I'll be coothie the morn!     To my brither John     Oh, lat me atone--     An' to mair I cud name     Gien I'd time to tak blame!     I hae wullt a' my gear         To my cousin Lippit:     She needs 't no a hair,         An' wud haud it grippit!     But I'm thinkin 't 'll be better     To gie 't a bit scatter     Whaur it winna canker     But mak a bit anchor!     Noo I s'try to sit loose         To the warld an' its thrang!     Lord, come intil my hoose,         For Sathan sall gang!     Awa here I sen' him--     Oh, haud the hoose agane him,     Or thou kens what he'll daur--     He'll be back wi' seven waur!     Lord, I knock at thy yett!         I hear the dog yowlin!     Lang latna me wait--         My conscience is growlin!     Whaur but to thee     Wha was broken for me,     But to thee, Lord, sae gran',     Can flee an auld man!