Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.
Vol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke | | | | The Counterblast Ironical | | By Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–1894) |
| | | IT’S strange that God should fash to frame | |
| The yearth and lift sae hie, | |
| An’ clean forget to explain the same | |
| To a gentleman like me. | |
| |
| Thae gusty, donnered ither folk, | 5 |
| Their weird they weel may dree; | |
| But why present a pig in a poke | |
| To a gentleman like me? | |
| |
| Thae ither folk their parritch eat | |
| An’ sup their sugared tea; | 10 |
| But the mind is no’ to be wyled wi’ meat | |
| Wi’ a gentleman like me. | |
| |
| Thae ither folk, they court their joes | |
| At gloamin’ on the lea; | |
| But they’re made of a commoner clay, I suppose, | 15 |
| Than a gentleman like me. | |
| |
| Thae ither folk, for richt or wrang, | |
| They suffer, bleed, or dee; | |
| But a’ thir things are an emp’y sang | |
| To a gentleman like me. | 20 |
| |
| It’s a different thing that I demand, | |
| Tho’ humble as can be— | |
| A statement fair in my maker’s hand | |
| To a gentleman like me. | |
| |
| A clear account writ fair an broad | 25 |
| An’ a plain apologie; | |
| Or the deevil a ceevil word to God | |
| From a gentleman like me. | | | | |
|
|
