plagiarism, that burns!

poor beastie, thou maun live
upon the burning pyre
while schemes of mice and men
are subject to the fire

I wad be laith to rin
to meet you at your call
wi’ murderin’ pattle
at some enchanters ball

thy poor, earth born companion
can lay down to his rest
foresight may be vain
to those who are not blest

i backward cast my eye
to mark the path i tread
now thous turn’d out
i might as well be dead

nought but grief and pain
i leave behind for you
for promis’d joy is lost
and naught but death is true

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