D h D H（1 / 4）

death and doctor hornbook

a true story

books are lies frae end to end,

and great lies were never penn&039;d:

ev&039;n isters they hae been kenn&039;d,

holy rapture,

a rog whid at tis to vend,

and nail&039;t wi&039; scripture

but this that i a gaun to tell,

which tely on a night befell,

is jt as true&039;s the deil&039;s hell

or dubl city:

that e&039;er he nearer es oursel&039;

&039;s a uckle pity

the cchan yill had ade canty,

i was na fou, but jt had plenty;

i stacher&039;d whiles, but yet too tent aye

to free the ditches;

an&039; hillocks, stanes, an&039; bhes, kenn&039;d eye

frae ghaists an&039; witches

the risg oon began to glowre

the distant cunock hills out-owre:

to unt her horns, wi&039; a y pow&039;r,

i set ysel&039;;

but whether she had three or four,

i u&039;d na tell

i was e round about the hill,

an&039; todl down on willie&039;s ill,

settg y staff wi&039; a&039; y skill,

to keep sicker;

tho&039; leeward whiles, agast y will,

i took a bicker

i there wi&039; thg did father,

that pat an eerie swither;

an&039; awfu&039; scythe, out-owre ae shouther,

clear-danglg, hang;

a three-tae&039;d leister on the ither

y, r an&039; ng

its stature see&039;d ng stch ells a,

the eerest shape that e&039;er i saw,

for fient a wa it had ava;

and then its shanks,

they were as th, as sharp an&039; sa&039;

as cheeks o&039; branks

“guid-een,” o&039; i; “friend! hae ye been a,

when ither folk are by sa!”

i see&039;d to ake a kd o&039; stan&039;

but naethg spak;

at length, says i, “friend! whare ye gaun?

will ye go back?”

it spak right howe,—“y na is death,

but be na fley&039;d”—h i, “guid faith,

ye&039;re aybe e to