Classic Poem

Dionysos . C'wa nou, what wey suld I chap o this door?
I wonner what's the hereaboot style o chappin.
XANTHIAS . Dinna waste time, but bauldly pree the door,
you wi the guise and smeddum of Herakles.
DION . Answer the door, slave.
[ Enter Aiakos, ane o the Judges o the Deid. ]
AIAKOS . Wha's there?
DION . Teuch guy Herakles.
AIAK . Ye scunnersome, ootrageous skellum, you,
mischievous villain, bluidie blagyart, you,
you rave awa oor collie Cerberus,
gruppit his thrapple and ran aff wi him.
I've watched for you, and nou ye're fairly cotcht.
The black whin-hertit craig o Styx bydes for ye,
and Acheron's bluid-dreepan preecipice
staunds sentinel, and Kokytos' rinnan hunds;
the hunner-heidit boa-constrictor snake
sall ryve your guts; the Loch Ness monsteress
sall tear the lichties oot ye; your twa kidneys,
wi aa your vital harigals, reeman wi bluid,
Gorgons frae Crail sall sune jurmummle. Wow!
I'll pit my best fuit forrit nou tae fesh them.
XAN . Hey, what ye duin?
DION . Fyled my breeks. Pit up a prayer.