The Canongate Burns (17 page)

Ye Irish lords, ye
knights
an'
squires
,

Wha represent our BRUGHS an' SHIRES,
who, burghs

An' doucely manage our affairs
prudently

                In
Parliament
,

5
To you a simple Bardie's pray'rs

                Are humbly sent.  

Alas! my roupet
Muse
is haerse!
husky, hoarse

Your Honors' hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce,
it would

To see her sittan on her arse

10
                Low i' the dust,

And scriechan out prosaic verse,
screeching

                An' like to brust!
burst

Tell them wha hae the chief direction,
who have

Scotland
an'
me's
in great affliction,

15
E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction
ever since

                On AQUAVITAE
whisky/water-of-life

An' rouse them up to strong conviction,

                An' move their pity.

Stand forth, an' tell yon PREMIER YOUTH

20
The honest, open, naked truth:

Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth,
thirst

                His servants humble:

The muckle devil blaw you south,
great, blow

                If ye dissemble!

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Does onie
great man
glunch an' gloom?
any, growl, grumble

Speak out, an' never fash your thumb!
trouble yourself

Let
posts
an'
pensions
sink or soom
swim

                Wi' them wha grant 'em:
who

If honestly they canna come,
cannot

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                Far better want 'em.
lack them

In gath'rin votes you were na slack;
not lazy

Now stand as tightly by your tack:

Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back,
scratch your ear, shrug

                An' hum an haw;

35
But raise your arm, an' tell your crack
tale

                Before them a'.

Paint Scotland greetan owre her thrissle;
weeping, over, thistle

Her
mutchkin stowp
as toom's a whissle;
pint-pot, empty as a whistle

An' damn'd
Excise-men
in a bustle,

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                Seizin a
Stell
,
still

Triumphant, crushan't like a mussel,

                Or laimpet shell.
limpet

Then on the tither hand present her,
other

A blackguard
Smuggler
right behint her,

45
An' cheek-for-chow, a chuffie
Vintner
cheek-by-jowl, fat faced

                Colleaguing join, —

Pickin her pouch as bare as Winter
pocket

                Of a' kind coin.

Is there, that bears the name o' SCOT,

50
But feels his heart's bluid rising hot,
blood

To see his poor auld Mither's
pot
old mother's

                Thus dung in staves,
broken in pieces

An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat,
last coin

                By gallows knaves?

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Alas! I'm but a nameless wight,

Trode i' the mire out o' sight!

But could I like MONTGOMERIES fight,

                Or gab like BOSWELL,
talk

There's some
sark-necks
I wad
draw
tight,
shirt-necks, would

60
                An' tye some
hose
well.
tie

God bless your Honors! can ye see't,

The kind, auld, cantie Carlin greet,
old, jolly, wife weep

An' no get warmly to your feet,

                An' gar them hear it,
make

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An' tell them wi' a patriot-heat,
Scottish passion

                Ye winna bear it?
will not

Some o' you nicely ken the laws,
know

To round the period an' pause,

An' with rhetoric clause on clause

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                To mak harangues;

Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's
Parliament's walls

                Auld Scotland's wrangs.
old, wrongs

Dempster
,
1
a true blue Scot I'se warran;
I'll warrant

Thee, aith-detesting, chaste
Kilkerran
;
2
oath

75
An' that glib-gabbet Highland Baron,
quick-tongued

                The Laird o'
Graham
;
3

An' ane, a chap that's damn'd auldfarran,
one, shrewd

               
Dundass
4
his name:

Erskine
,
5
a spunkie Norland billie;
spirited Northern young man

80
True Campbells,
Frederick
an'
Ilay
;
6

An' Livistone, the bauld Sir
Willie
;
7
bold

                An' mony ithers,
many others

Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully
8
old

                Might own for brithers.
brothers

85
Thee sodger Hugh, my watchman stented,
9
soldier, assigned (M.P.)

If Bardies e'er are represented;

I ken if that your sword were wanted,
know

                Ye'd lend your hand;

But when there's ought to say anent it,
about

90
                Ye're at a stand.

Arouse my boys! exert your mettle,

To get auld Scotland back her
kettle
!
old, whisky still

Or faith! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle,
wager, plough scraper

                Ye'll see't or lang,
before long

95
She'll teach you, wi' a reekan whittle,
smoking knife

                Anither sang.
another song

This while she's been in crankous mood,
fretful

Her
lost Militia
fir'd her bluid;
blood

(Deil na they never mair do guid,
not, more, good

100
                Play'd her that pliskie!)
trick

An' now she's like to rin red-wud
run stark mad

                About her
Whisky
.

An' Lord! if ance they pit her till't,
once, put her to it

Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt,
tuck up

105
An' durk an' pistol at her belt,
blade

                She'll tak the streets,

An' rin her whittle to the hilt,
run her knife, handle

                I' the first she meets!

For God-sake, Sirs! then speak her fair,

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An' straik her cannie wi' the hair,
stroke, carefully

An' to the
Muckle House
repair,
great Parliament

                Wi' instant speed,

An' strive, wi' a' your Wit an' Lear,
knowledge

                To get remead.

115
Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler,
Charlie Fox
,
10
gypsy

May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks;

But gie him't het, my hearty cocks!
give him it hot

                E'en cowe the cadie!
subdue, rascal

An' send him to his dicing box

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                An' sportin lady.

Tell yon guid bluid of auld
Boconnock's
,
11
good blood, old

I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks,
mixed meal bannocks

An' drink his health in auld
Nanse Tinnock's
12
old

                Nine times a-week,

125
If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks,
windows

                Wad kindly seek.
would

Could he some
commutation
broach,

I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch,
oath, good broad

He needna fear their foul reproach
need not

130
                Nor erudition,

Yon mixtie-maxtie, queer hotch-potch,
mixed up

                The
Coalition
.

Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue;
old, rough

She's just a devil wi' a rung;
bludgeon

135
An' if she promise auld or young
old

                To tak their part,

Tho' by the neck she should be strung,

                She'll no desert.

And now, ye chosen FIVE AND FORTY,

140
May still your Mither's heart support ye;
mother's

Then, tho' a Minister grow dorty,
haughty

                An' kick your place,

Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty,

                Before his face.

145
God bless your Honors, a' your days,

Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claes,
sups of broth, coarse cloth

In spite o' a' the thievish kaes,
jackdaws

                That haunt St.
Jamie's
!
parliament

Your humble Bardie sings an' prays,

150
                While
Rab
his name is.

POSTSCRIPT

Let half-starv'd slaves in warmer skies,

See future wines, rich-clust'ring, rise;

Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies,
old

                But, blythe and frisky,

155
She eyes her freeborn,
martial boys

                Tak aff their Whisky.
drink down

What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms,
sun

While Fragrance blooms and Beauty charms!

When wretches range, in famish'd swarms,

160
                The scented groves,

Or hounded forth,
dishonor
arms

                In hungry droves.

Their
gun's
a burden on their shouther;
shoulder

They downa bide the stink o'
powther
;
do not, gun powder

165
Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither
boldest, uncertain doubt

                To stan' or rin,

Till skelp – a shot – they're aff, a' throw'ther,
crack, off, pell-mell

                 To save their skin.

But bring a SCOTCHMAN frae his hill,
from

170
Clap in his cheek a
Highlan
gill,
gill (measure)

Say, such is royal GEORGE'S will,

                An' there's the foe!

He has nae thought but how to kill
no

                Twa at a blow.
two

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Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him;
no cold

Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him;

Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him;
bloody hand, gives

                An' when he fa's,
falls

His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him
leaves

180
                In faint huzzas.

Sages their solemn een may steek
eyes, close

An' raise a philosophic reek,
smoke

An' physically causes seek,

                In
clime
an'
season
;

185
But tell me
Whisky's
name in Greek:

                I'll tell the reason.