Prescript of the * *

by George Gordon

For other versions of this work, see Prescript of the Ku Klux Klan.

PRESCRIPT

OF THE

* *

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What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,
Revisit’st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature,
So horridly shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls!

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An’now auld Cloots, I ken ye’re thinking’,
A certail *Ghoul* is rantin’, drinkin’,
Some luckless night send him linking,’
To your black pit;
But, faith! he’ll turn a corner jinkin’,
An’ cheat you yet.

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L'ENVOI.

To the lovers of Law and Order, Peace and Justice, we send greeting ; and to the shades of the venerated Dead, we affectionately dedicate the † ♦