The Auld Man's Prayer Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AAAABBAA CBCBBBBB BDBDAAEE FAFAAACC GHIHJJAA KLGLBBCC AAAAGKMM IAIANNAA AIAIAAGF JAJAAAJJ LBLBLLLL OIOIJJLL BABAJJAA

Lord I'm an auld manA
An' I'm deeinA
An' do what I canA
I canna help beinA
Some feart at the thouchtB
I'm no what I ouchtB
An' thou art sae gran'A
Me but an auld manA
-
I haena gotten muckleC
Guid o' the warldB
Though siller a puckleC
Thegither I hae harltB
Noo I maun be rid o' 'tB
The ill an' the guid o' 'tB
An' I wud I s' no back frae 'tB
Rather put til 't nor tak frae 'tB
-
It's a pity a bodyB
Coudna haud on hereD
Puttin cloddy to cloddyB
Till he had a bit lan' hereD
But eh I'm forgettinA
Whaur the tide's settinA
It'll pusion my prayerE
Till it's no worth a hairE
-
It's awfu it's awfuF
To think 'at I'm gaeinA
Whaur a' 's ower wi' the lawfuF
Whaur's an en' til a' haeinA
It's gruesome to en'A
The thing 'at ye kenA
An' gang to begin tilC
What ye canna see intilC
-
Thou may weel turn awaG
Lord an' say it's a shameH
'At noo I suld ca'I
On thy licht giein nameH
Wha my lang life timeJ
Wud no see a stimeJ
An' the fac' there's no fleeinA
But hae pity I'm deeinA
-
I'm thine ain efter a'K
The waur shame I'm nae betterL
Dinna sen' me awaG
Dinna curse a puir craturL
I never jist cheatitB
I own I defeatitB
Gart his poverty tellC
On him 'at maun sellC
-
Oh that my probationA
Had lain i' some regionA
Whaur was less considerationA
For gear mixt wi' religionA
It's the mixin the twaG
'At jist ruins a'K
That kirk's the deil's placeM
Whaur gear glorifees graceM
-
I hae learnt nought but ae thingI
'At life's but a spanA
I hae warslet for naethingI
I hae noucht i' my han'A
At the fut o' the stairsN
I'm sayin my prayersN
Lord lat the auld loonA
Confess an' lie doonA
-
I hae been an ill manA
Micht hae made a guid dogI
I could rin though no stanA
Micht hae won throu a bogI
But 't was ower easy gaeinA
An' I set me to playinA
Dinna sen' me awaG
Whaur's no licht avaF
-
Forgie me an' hap meJ
I hae been a sharp thornA
But oh dinna drap meJ
I'll be coothie the mornA
To my brither JohnA
Oh lat me atoneA
An' to mair I cud nameJ
Gien I'd time to tak blameJ
-
I hae wullt a' my gearL
To my cousin LippitB
She needs 't no a hairL
An' wud haud it grippitB
But I'm thinkin 't 'll be betterL
To gie 't a bit scatterL
Whaur it winna cankerL
But mak a bit anchorL
-
Noo I s'try to sit looseO
To the warld an' its thrangI
Lord come intil my hooseO
For Sathan sall gangI
Awa here I sen' himJ
Oh haud the hoose agane himJ
Or thou kens what he'll daurL
He'll be back wi' seven waurL
-
Lord I knock at thy yettB
I hear the dog yowlinA
Lang latna me waitB
My conscience is growlinA
Whaur but to theeJ
Wha was broken for meJ
But to thee Lord sae gran'A
Can flee an auld manA

George Macdonald



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