VII. The Blast—1875. Stevenson, Robert Louis. 1913. A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods

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.