On Captain Francis Grose.

A poem by Robert Burns

The devil got notice that Grose was a-dying,
So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying;
But when he approach'd where poor Francis lay moaning,
And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning,
Astonish'd! confounded! cry'd Satan, "By ----,
I'll want him, ere I take such a damnable load!"