by Robert Burns
Gude fellows wi’ him:
And port, O port! shine thou a wee,
And THEN ye’ll see him!
Now, by the Pow’rs o’ verse and prose! 55
Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose! —
Whae’er o’ thee shall ill suppose,
They sair misca’ thee;
I’d take the rascal by the nose,
Wad say, “Shame fa’ thee!” 60
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
279.
Epigram on Francis Grose the Antiquary
THE DEVIL got notice that Grose was a-dying
So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying;
But when he approached where poor Francis lay moaning,
And saw each bed-post with its burthen a-groaning,
Astonish’d, confounded, cries Satan— “By G — , 5
I’ll want him, ere I take such a damnable load!”
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
280.
The Kirk of Scotland’s Alarm: A Ballad
A Ballad.
Tune— “Come rouse, Brother Sportsman!”
ORTHODOX! orthodox, who believe in John Knox,
Let me sound an alarm to your conscience:
A heretic blast has been blown in the West,
That what is no sense must be nonsense,
Orthodox! That what is no sense must be nonsense. 5
Doctor Mac! Doctor Mac, you should streek on a rack,
To strike evil-doers wi’ terror:
To join Faith and Sense, upon any pretence,
Was heretic, damnable error,
Doctor Mac! ‘Twas heretic, damnable error. 10
Town of Ayr! town of Ayr, it was mad, I declare,
To meddle wi’ mischief a-brewing,
Provost John is still deaf to the Church’s relief,
And Orator Bob is its ruin,
Town of Ayr! Yes, Orator Bob is its ruin. 15
D’rymple mild! D’rymple mild, tho’ your heart’s like a child,
And your life like the new-driven snaw,
Yet that winna save you, auld Satan must have you,
For preaching that three’s ane an’ twa,
D’rymple mild! For preaching that three’s ane an’ twa. 20
Rumble John! rumble John, mount the steps with a groan,
Cry the book is with heresy cramm’d;
Then out wi’ your ladle, deal brimstone like aidle,
And roar ev’ry note of the D—’d.
Rumble John! And roar ev’ry note of the D—’d. 25
Simper James! simper James, leave your fair Killie dames,
There’s a holier chase in your view:
I’ll lay on your head, that the pack you’ll soon lead,
For puppies like you there’s but few,
Simper James! For puppies like you there’s but few. 30
Singet Sawnie! singet Sawnie, are ye huirdin the penny,
Unconscious what evils await?
With a jump, yell, and howl, alarm ev’ry soul,
For the foul thief is just at your gate.
Singet Sawnie! For the foul thief is just at your gate. 35
Poet Willie! poet Willie, gie the Doctor a volley,
Wi’ your “Liberty’s Chain” and your wit;
O’er Pegasus’ side ye ne’er laid a stride,
Ye but smelt, man, the place where he sh-t.
Poet Willie! Ye but smelt man, the place where he sh-t. 40
Barr Steenie! Barr Steenie, what mean ye, what mean ye?
If ye meddle nae mair wi’ the matter,
Ye may hae some pretence to havins and sense,
Wi’ people that ken ye nae better,
Barr Steenie! Wi’people that ken ye nae better. 45
Jamie Goose! Jamie Goose, ye made but toom roose,
In hunting the wicked Lieutenant;
But the Doctor’s your mark, for the Lord’s holy ark,
He has cooper’d an’ ca’d a wrang pin in’t,
Jamie Goose! He has cooper’d an’ ca’d a wrang pin in’t. 50
Davie Bluster! Davie Bluster, for a saint ye do muster,
The core is no nice o’ recruits;
Yet to worth let’s be just, royal blood ye might boast,
If the Ass were the king o’ the brutes,
Davie Bluster! If the Ass were the king o’ the brutes. 55
Cessnock-side! Cessnock-side, wi’ your turkey-cock pride
Of manhood but sma’ is your share:
Ye’ve the figure, ‘tis true, ev’n your foes will allow,
And your friends they dare grant you nae mair,
Cessnock-side! And your friends they dare grant you nae mair. 60
Muirland Jock! muirland Jock, when the L — d makes a rock,
To crush common-sense for her sins;
If ill-manners were wit, there’s no mortal so fit
To confound the poor Doctor at ance,
Muirland Jock! To confound the poor Doctor at ance. 65
Andro Gowk! Andro Gowk, ye may slander the Book,
An’ the Book nought the waur, let me tell ye;
Tho’ ye’re rich, an’ look big, yet, lay by hat an’ wig,
An’ ye’ll hae a calf’s-had o’ sma’ value,
Andro Gowk! Ye’ll hae a calf’s head o’ sma value. 70
Daddy Auld! daddy Auld, there’a a tod in the fauld,
A tod meikle waur than the clerk;
Tho’ ye do little skaith, ye’ll be in at the death,
For gif ye canna bite, ye may bark,
Daddy Auld! Gif ye canna bite, ye may bark. 75
Holy Will! holy Will, there was wit in your skull,
When ye pilfer’d the alms o’ the poor;
The timmer is scant when ye’re taen for a saunt,
Wha should swing in a rape for an hour,
Holy Will! Ye should swing in a rape for an hour. 80
Calvin’s sons! Calvin’s sons, seize your spiritual guns,
Ammunition you never can need;
Your hearts are the stuff will be powder enough,
And your skulls are a storehouse o’ lead,
Calvin’s sons! Your skulls are a storehouse o’ lead. 85
Poet Burns! poet Burns, wi” your priest-skelpin turns,
Why desert ye your auld native shire?
Your muse is a gipsy, yet were she e’en tipsy,
She could ca’us nae waur than we are,
Poet Burns! She could ca’us nae waur than we are. 90
PRESENTATION STANZAS TO CORRESPONDENTS
Factor John! Factor John, whom the Lord made alone,
And ne’er made anither, thy peer,
Thy poor servant, the Bard, in respectful regard,
He presents thee this token sincere,
Factor John! He presents thee this token sincere. 95
Afton’s Laird! Afton’s Laird, when your pen can be spared,
A copy of this I bequeath,
On the same sicker score as I mention’d before,
To that trusty auld worthy, Clackleith,
Afton’s Laird! To that trusty auld worthy, Clackleith. 100
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
281.
Sonnet to R. Graham, Esq., on Receiving a Favour
10 Aug., 1789.
Addressed to ROBERT GRAHAM, Esq. of Fintry.
I CALL no Goddess to inspire my strains,
A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns:
Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns,
And all the tribute of my heart returns,
For boons accorded, goodness ever new, 5
The gifts still dearer, as the giver you.
Thou orb of day! thou other paler light!
And all ye many sparkling stars of night!
If aught that giver from my mind efface,
If I that g
iver’s bounty e’er disgrace, 10
Then roll to me along your wand’rig spheres,
Only to number out a villain’s years!
I lay my hand upon my swelling breast,
And grateful would, but cannot speak the rest.
Chronological List of Poems
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282.
Extemporaneous Effusion on being appointed to an Excise Division
On being appointed to an Excise division.
SEARCHING auld wives’ barrels,
Ochon the day!
That clarty barm should stain my laurels:
But — what’ll ye say?
These movin’ things ca’d wives an’ weans, 5
Wad move the very hearts o’ stanes!
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
283.
Willie brew’d a Peck o’ Maut (Song)
O WILLIE brew’d a peck o’ maut,
And Rob and Allen cam to see;
Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wadna found in Christendie.
Chorus. — We are na fou, we’re nae that fou, 5
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw
And aye we’ll taste the barley bree.
Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we; 10
And mony a night we’ve merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be!
We are na fou, &c.
It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That’s blinkin’ in the lift sae hie; 15
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she’ll wait a wee!
We are na fou, &c.
Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he! 20
Wha first beside his chair shall fa’,
He is the King amang us three.
We are na fou, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
284.
Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes (older set) (Song)
Chorus. — Ca’ the yowes to the knowes,
Ca’ them where the heather grows,
Ca’ them where the burnie rowes,
My bonie dearie
AS I gaed down the water-side, 5
There I met my shepherd lad:
He row’d me sweetly in his plaid,
And he ca’d me his dearie.
Ca’ the yowes, &c.
Will ye gang down the water-side, 10
And see the waves sae sweetly glide
Beneath the hazels spreading wide,
The moon it shines fu’ clearly.
Ca’ the yowes, &c.
Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet, 15
Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet,
And in my arms ye’se lie and sleep,
An’ ye sall be my dearie.
Ca’ the yowes, &c.
If ye’ll but stand to what ye’ve said, 20
I’se gang wi’ thee, my shepherd lad,
And ye may row me in your plaid,
And I sall be your dearie.
Ca’ the yowes, &c.
While waters wimple to the sea, 25
While day blinks in the lift sae hie,
Till clay-cauld death sall blin’ my e’e,
Ye sall be my dearie.
Ca’ the yowes, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
285.
I Gaed a Waefu’ Gate Yestreen (Song)
I GAED a waefu’ gate yestreen,
A gate, I fear, I’ll dearly rue;
I gat my death frae twa sweet een,
Twa lovely een o’bonie blue.
‘Twas not her golden ringlets bright, 5
Her lips like roses wat wi’ dew,
Her heaving bosom, lily-white —
It was her een sae bonie blue.
She talk’d, she smil’d, my heart she wyl’d;
She charm’d my soul I wist na how; 10
And aye the stound, the deadly wound,
Cam frae her een so bonie blue.
But “spare to speak, and spare to speed;”
She’ll aiblins listen to my vow:
Should she refuse, I’ll lay my dead 15
To her twa een sae bonie blue.
Chronological List of Poems
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286.
Highland Harry back again (Song)
MY Harry was a gallant gay,
Fu’ stately strade he on the plain;
But now he’s banish’d far away,
I’ll never see him back again.
Chorus. — O for him back again! 5
O for him back again!
I wad gie a’ Knockhaspie’s land
For Highland Harry back again.
When a’ the lave gae to their bed,
I wander dowie up the glen; 10
I set me down and greet my fill,
And aye I wish him back again.
O for him, &c.
O were some villains hangit high,
And ilka body had their ain! 15
Then I might see the joyfu’ sight,
My Highland Harry back again.
O for him, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
287.
The Battle of Sherramuir (Song)
Tune— “The Cameronian Rant.”
“O CAM ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi’ me, man?
Or were ye at the Sherra-moor,
Or did the battle see, man?”
I saw the battle, sair and teugh, 5
And reekin-red ran mony a sheugh;
My heart, for fear, gaed sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds
O’ clans frae woods, in tartan duds,
Wha glaum’d at kingdoms three, man. 10
La, la, la, la, &c.
The red-coat lads, wi’ black cockauds,
To meet them were na slaw, man;
They rush’d and push’d, and blude outgush’d
And mony a bouk did fa’, man: 15
The great Argyle led on his files,
I wat they glanced twenty miles;
They hough’d the clans like nine-pin kyles,
They hack’d and hash’d, while braid-swords, clash’d,
And thro’ they dash’d, and hew’d and smash’d, 20
Till fey men died awa, man.
La, la, la, la, &c.
But had ye seen the philibegs,
And skyrin tartan trews, man;
When in the teeth they dar’d our Whigs, 25
And covenant True-blues, man:
In lines extended lang and large,
When baiginets o’erpower’d the targe,
And thousands hasten’d to the charge;
Wi’ Highland wrath they frae the sheath 30
Drew blades o’ death, till, out o’ breath,
They fled like frighted dows, man!
La, la, la, la, &c.
“O how deil, Tam, can that be true?
The chase gaed frae the north, man; 35
I saw mysel, they did pursue,
The horsemen back to Forth, man;
And at Dunblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi’ a’ their might,
And straught to Stirling wing’d their flight; 40
But, cursed lot! the gates were shut;
And mony a huntit poor red-coat,
For fear amaist did swarf, man!”
La, la, la, la, &c.
My sister Kate cam up the gate 45
Wi’ crowdie unto me, man;
She swoor she saw some rebels run
To Perth unto Dundee, man;
Their left-hand general had nae skill;
The Angus lads had nae gude will 50
That day their neibors’ blude to spill;
For fear, for foes, that they should lose
Their cogs o’ brose; they scar’d at blows,
And hameward fast did flee, man.
La, la, la, la, &c. 55
They’ve lost some gallant gentlemen,
Amang the Highland clans, man!
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain,
Or fallen in Whiggish hands, man,
Now wad ye sing this double fight, 60
Some fell for wrang, and some for right;
But mony bade the world gude-night;
Say, pell and mell, wi’ muskets’ knell
How Tories fell, and Whigs to hell
Flew off in frighted bands, man! 65
La, la, la, la, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
288.
The Braes o’ Killiecrankie (Song)
WHERE hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O?
Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O?
Chorus. — An ye had been whare I hae been, 5
Ye wad na been sae cantie, O;
An ye had seen what I hae seen,
I’ the Braes o’ Killiecrankie, O.