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5io THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Clattering down Duration's rocks, In a thundering endless fall, I wish the devil was dead ! |
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How would the clergy feel ?
Would reverend tears be shed, And the caoine from the pulpit rise —
Gin the auld deil were dead ? The ways of the Lord are strange,—
To keep the devil alive, And keep so many clergymen
Against the devil to strive. And all in vain, it seems,
They strive against the foe, Since most who go by the train of life
Get tickets for below.
I wish the devil was dead ! |
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Suppose a change like this,
Suppose the devil were dead — No longer driver on God's estate,
And I were in his stead. I would not be so hard,
I think, on tenant souls, As frizzle and grizzle them evermore
On nasty brimstone coals. I think I would not be still
Driving them on to sin, To the brink of a smoking fiery pit,
And pitching them yelling in. But I might be just as bad
As the auld deil himsel'. |
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