Robert Louis Stevenson > A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods > VII. The Blast—1875
Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850–1894).  A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods.  1913.
VII. The Blast—1875

IT’S rainin’. Weet’s the gairden sod, 
Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod— 
A maist unceevil thing o’ God 
      In mid July— 
If ye’ll just curse the sneckdraw, dod!         5
      An’ sae wull I! 
He’s a braw place in Heev’n, ye ken, 
An’ lea’s us puir, forjaskit men 
Clamjamfried in the but and ben 
      He ca’s the earth—  10
A wee bit inconvenient den 
      No muckle worth; 
An’ whiles, at orra times, keeks out, 
Sees what puir mankind are about; 
An’ if He can, I’ve little doubt,  15
      Upsets their plans; 
He hates a’ mankind, brainch and root, 
      And a’ that’s man’s. 
An’ whiles, whan they tak heart again, 
An’ life i’ the sun looks braw an’ plain,  20
Doun comes a jaw o’ droukin’ rain 
      Upon their honours— 
God sends a spate outower the plain, 
      Or mebbe thun’ers. 
Lord safe us, life’s an unco thing!  25
Simmer an’ Winter, Yule an’ Spring, 
The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring 
      A feck o’ trouble. 
I wadnae try’t to be a king— 
      No, nor for double.  30
But since we’re in it, willy-nilly, 
We maun be watchfü’, wise an’ skilly, 
An’ no mind ony ither billy, 
      Lassie nor God. 
But drink—that’s my best counsel till ’e:  35
      Sae tak the nod. 



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