Death and Doctor Hornbook（2 / 7）

  tho' leeward whiles, against my will,
  i took a bicker.
  i there wi' something did forgather,
  that pat me in an eerie swither;
  an' awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouther,
  clear-dangling, hang;
  a three-tae'd leister on the ither
  lay, large an' lang.
  its stature seem'd lang scotch ells twa,
  the queerest shape that e'er i saw,
  for fient a wame it had ava;
  and then its shanks,
  they were as thin, as sharp an' sma'
  as cheeks o' branks.
  “guid-een,” quo' i; “friend! hae ye been mawin,
  when ither folk are busy sawin!”
  i seem'd to make a kind o' stan'
  but naething spak;
  at length, says i, “friend! whare ye gaun?
  will ye go back?”
  it spak right howe,—“my name is death,
  but be na fley'd.”—h i, “guid faith,
  ye're maybe come to stap my breath;
  but tent me, billie;
  i red ye weel, tak care o' skaith
  see, there's a gully!”
  “gudeman,” quo' he, “put up your whittle,
  i'm no designed to try its mettle;
  but if i did, i wad be kittle
  to be mislear'd; ↑返回顶部↑