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The Epitaph

     Stop, passenger! my story's brief,
     And truth I shall relate, man;
     I tell nae common tale o' grief,
     For Matthew was a great man.

     If thou uncommon merit hast,
     Yet spurn'd at Fortune's door, man;
     A look of pity hither cast,
     For Matthew was a poor man.

     If thou a noble sodger art,
     That passest by this grave, man;
     There moulders here a gallant heart,
     For Matthew was a brave man.

     If thou on men, their works and ways,
     Canst throw uncommon light, man;
     Here lies wha weel had won thy praise,
     For Matthew was a bright man.

     If thou, at Friendship's sacred ca',
     Wad life itself resign, man:
     Thy sympathetic tear maun fa',
     For Matthew was a kind man.

     If thou art staunch, without a stain,
     Like the unchanging blue, man;
     This was a kinsman o' thy ain,
     For Matthew was a true man.

     If thou hast wit, and fun, and fire,
     And ne'er guid wine did fear, man;
     This was thy billie, dam, and sire,
     For Matthew was a queer man.

     If ony whiggish, whingin' sot,
     To blame poor Matthew dare, man;
     May dool and sorrow be his lot,
     For Matthew was a rare man.

     But now, his radiant course is run,
     For Matthew's was a bright one!
     His soul was like the glorious sun,
     A matchless, Heavenly light, man.

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