Aberlady
“Here lies John Smith,
Whom Death slew, for all his pith
The starkest man in Aberlady,
God prepare and make us ready.
Lanarkshire
Glasgow
Our life’s a flying shadow, God’s the pole,
The index pointing at him is our soul;
Death’s the horizon, when our sun is set,
Which will through Christ a resurrection get.
Here lies Mass Andrew Gray,
Of whom ne muckle good can I say:
He was ne Quaker, for he had ne spirit,
He was ne Papist, for he had ne merit.
He was ne Turk, for he drank muckle wine,
He was ne Jew, for he eat muckle swine.
Full forty years he preach’d and le’ed,
For which God doomed him when he de’ed.