Document 797
Dipper: 62 - The Three Wee Deils
Author(s): John Reid
Copyright holder(s):
John Reid
Audio transcription
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The Three Wee Deils
Ae day in the benmaist neuk o Hell
The Deil was minded tae rest himsel
He had juist won back frae his wark on earth,
Oot sawin temptation for aa his worth,
Gaun up an doun that trauchled sphere
Walin the sinners frae faur an near.
An nou, safe hame, wi fauldit pinions
He tuik his ease, while twa-three minions
Were thrang at their darg in the earth abune,
For the deil's wark rests for sun nor mune.
But Hell hauds neither peace nor rest,
Sic things are only for the blest.
He'd scarce lain doun by a weelgaun bleeze
Whan the Deil was yerkit frae his ease
Tae pass new entrants, needin clearance
- An he cursed them weel for the interference!
Syne back again ower the het flagstanes
He settled doun tae rest his banes,
Whan a canny wee chappin at the door
Steered him again, an he grained an swore.
But the eident Deil turns nane awa,
The door swung open at his caa,
An three wee deils cluit-fuited in
Tae their faither's howff in the Halls o Sin.
Their sire luikit doun wi a pridefu ee,
For gey gleg deils they were like tae be.
'Whit brings ye here?' he kindly speired
(They pleased him sae, his froun had cleared).
'Weel, Faither,' said ane, as ye maun ken,
'We're deevilish keen tae be lowsed on men.
We'd like tae gang tae the earth abune
Tae keep the sinners birlin in.'
The Deil, though fu o paternal pride,
Poued his lug for a wee ere he replied:
'Ye're hotchin tae gang, I see that fine,
- 'Deed, else ye wadna be sons o mine -
But deevilocks maun be weel prepared
Before they delve my earthly yaird.
These days, deil kens, there's rowth at caa
Tae keep Hell fou - nae lack ava!
Ye'd think tae sin aa men aspire
- Feth, whiles I think I could retire!
'But sittin birds are sune gey stawin,
Ye'll grow quick tired o easy mawin,
An want tae feel that grand elation
Whan ane faas victim tae temptation
Wha's kept awa frae fun an gemms
An thocht he had the Deil in hemms.
For sic-like, ye maun be gey slee
Tae mak him tak the cup an pree,
Sae ilka ane juist tell me plain
Hou ye hae planned your great campaign.'
Up piped the first:
'Sen me abroad -
I'll tell mankind that there's nae God!'
Wi a grue at the Name,
the Deil frouned sairly.
'My lad, I doot ye'll fare but puirly
Gin that's your heaviest ammunition.
Caa't, if ye like, juist intuition,
Or scannin, whiles the staurs an mune
- Man kens fou weel there's Ane abune.'
'Then let me gang,' the second cried,
'Tae wark your will on the warld wide.
A better plan I've gien mysel,
I'll tell mankind that there's nae Hell!'
Nick shuik his heid wi plain distaste.
'Na, na, my son, facts maun be faced.
Men still ken if they're daein wrang
Whan burnin conscience drives its stang.
They ken it's a taste o the life doun here
Gin sinfu weys they dinna forsweir.'
The third imp stuid gey quate an slee,
An the Deil saw himsel in the wee red ee.
'Let me rin lowse, an dinna worry
- I'll juist tell men that there's nae hurry.'
The Deil sprang up frae his sate by the swee
An his een were alowe wi a hellish glee.
'Gang furth, my son, wi aa your speed
For you hae the Deevil's word indeed.
Gin men heed you, we'll bucht them in.
Procrastination's the deidly sin!'
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