Poet's path - Death and dr. hornbook
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I find this modern depiction difficult to fully interpret. In the poem our unnamed hero was walking home. He,
"...was na fou, but just had plenty;"
when he meets the devil with a scythe over his shoulder.
"An' awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouther,
Why the traffic lights are in the carving you can work out for yourself! Around the plinth we see the words, "Who shall be our poet now?" - words heard shouted out as Burns' courtege passed at his funeral procession in Dumfries.
"Moving on" as all tour guides say...