Answer To Burns' Address To The De'il Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABACAC DDDEFE DDDGDG HIAJHK LLMNLN FFFFFF FFFOFO LLLFLF LLLPLP QRSFRF TTTFUF RSQFQV LLLOLO WWWLWL FFFUFU LLLLML FFFFFF LLLULU UUULQL LLLULU LXLLXL LLLULU UUUYUY U| O thou wild rantin' wicked wit | A |
| Are thy works thy fame livin' yet | B |
| Will thae daft people never quit | A |
| An ne'er ha'e done | C |
| Disturbin' me in my black pit | A |
| Wi' Burn's fun | C |
| - | |
| Though mony years ha'e fled away | D |
| Sin' thou wert buried in the clay | D |
| Thy rhymes unto this vera day | D |
| Are mair than laws | E |
| Thy name's set up on ilka bra' | F |
| Wi' great applause | E |
| - | |
| And yet thou wonder workin' chiel | D |
| I'd let ye' charm Scotch bodies weel | D |
| But that Address unto the De'il | D |
| Made i' your sport | G |
| Has raised a maist revengefu' squeel | D |
| In my black court | G |
| - | |
| Still by the names you gi'e I'm greeted | H |
| By every Lallan tongue repeated | I |
| I canna turn but what I meet it | A |
| In toun or village | J |
| My bluid though hot enough is heated | H |
| Till't boils wi' rage | K |
| - | |
| My deeds that ha'e been handed down | L |
| Sin' I aspired to Heaven's crown | L |
| By thee Rab lad dressed up in rhyme | M |
| To do me skaith | N |
| Are circling still the empire roun' | L |
| After thy death | N |
| - | |
| Ye say I roam in search o' prey | F |
| An' rest na' neither nicht nor day | F |
| A' that ye heard ye'r grannie say | F |
| Ye hae confest | F |
| An' mair than hinted at my stay | F |
| In Robin's breast | F |
| - | |
| My secret agents everywhere | F |
| A' Scotland roun' but maist in Ayr | F |
| O guid abuse their ain' an' mair | F |
| Ye try to gie them | O |
| Nae credit tae ye that ye were | F |
| Acquainted wi' them | O |
| - | |
| O' ghaists an' kelpies deeds you ken | L |
| Hauntin' the foord and lonely glen | L |
| Lurin' the tipsy sons of men | L |
| In bogs to die | F |
| ' auld wives girnin' but an'ben | L |
| Ower bewitched Rye | F |
| - | |
| An' screeden down wi' wicked han' | L |
| ' my deep laid successfu' plan | L |
| Vexed at the idlest o' man | L |
| Your faither Adam | P |
| That got him sent to till the lan' | L |
| Him and his madam | P |
| - | |
| You are like money I ha'e saw | Q |
| For though ye kenned I caused the fa' | R |
| An' as ye say maist ruined a' | S |
| In that same hour | F |
| You did na strive to get ava | R |
| Out o' my power | F |
| - | |
| At Kirk you'd neither pray nor praise | T |
| But on the lassies ye wad gaze | T |
| Notice neat feet blue eyes fine claes | T |
| Or Jenny's bonnet | F |
| An makin rhyme on what ye ha'e | U |
| Seen creeping on it | F |
| - | |
| Hech Rab ye were na blate ava | R |
| Ae time ye're mockin Kirk an' a' | S |
| An' then tae me ye gie' your jaw | Q |
| Or my abode | F |
| An' tell how weel I laid my claw | Q |
| On patient Job | V |
| - | |
| Aye an' although ye richt weel knew | L |
| That I wi' masons had to do | L |
| Ye could na' rest oh no not you | L |
| Till numbered wi' them | O |
| Gi'en your heart's warm fond adieu | L |
| When gaun to lea them | O |
| - | |
| An' aft ye did your sire provoke | W |
| By jest and jeer at better folk | W |
| A' solemn thought wad end in smoke | W |
| Sae wad his teachin' | L |
| And fun wad fly in jibe an' joke | W |
| At lang faced preachin' | L |
| - | |
| The mair they frowned you joked the mair | F |
| ' grave ye had a scanty share | F |
| The verra text ya wadna spare | F |
| Be't e'er sae holy | U |
| An' rhymin' ower the pithy prayer | F |
| O' pious Willie | U |
| - | |
| Aye' Rab ye rail it at me and mine | L |
| Yet hungert after things divine | L |
| I kenn'd how sairly ye wad pine | L |
| For deeds ill done | L |
| Ower talents lost ower wasted time | M |
| For sake o' fun | L |
| - | |
| An' then remorse wi' pickled rod | F |
| Wad gie' ye mony a lash an' prod | F |
| But aye ye went the rantin' road | F |
| An prone tae err | F |
| You sair misca'd douce men o' God | F |
| An Holy Fair | F |
| - | |
| I winna say it is untrue | L |
| What's certified o' me by you | L |
| If ilka ane their duty'd do | L |
| As quick an' weel | U |
| As I my certie they'd get through | L |
| Spite o' the De'il | U |
| - | |
| There's ae guid turn ye did for me | U |
| An' I acknowledge't full an' free | U |
| In praisin' up the barley bree | U |
| In tuneful line | L |
| Nae bard but you its praise could gie | Q |
| In words sae fine | L |
| - | |
| An' listen tae me 'Rab my man | L |
| I dinna ken a better plan | L |
| To ser' my turn wi'silly man | L |
| An wark them ill | U |
| Than charming them to pleasure drawn | L |
| Frae the whisky gill | U |
| - | |
| This is what gars me maist complain | L |
| Maist as weel kenned as mine's your name | X |
| Auld Scotia claims ye as her ain | L |
| Her dearest one | L |
| An' that daft gilpey Madam Fame | X |
| Owns thee her son | L |
| - | |
| I thocht that jests wad flee fu' fain | L |
| Forgetfulness come in again | L |
| That I wad claim ye as my ain | L |
| Tae baud an bin' ye | U |
| But noo through a' o' my domain | L |
| I canna fin' ye | U |
| - | |
| Noo fare ye weel whaure'er ye be | U |
| Ane thing I ken ye're no wi' me | U |
| I ha'e searched high an' low to see | U |
| By spells an' turns | Y |
| Sae I maun even let ye be | U |
| O Robert Burns | Y |
| - | |
| G Hill | U |
Nora Pembroke (margaret Moran Dixon Mcdougall)
(1)
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About Answer To Burns' Address To The De'il
Answer To Burns' Address To The De'il is a poem by Nora Pembroke (margaret Moran Dixon Mcdougall). This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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