Epistle To William Creech. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis


Selkirk MayA
Auld chukie Reekie's sair distrestB
Down droops her ance weel burnisht crestB
Nae joy her bonnie buskit nestB
Can yield avaC
Her darling bird that she lo'es bestB
Willie's awaD
O Willie was a witty wightB
And had o' things an unco slightB
Auld Reekie ay he keepit tightB
An' trig an' brawE
But now they'll busk her like a frightB
Willie's awaD
The stiffest o' them a' he bow'dB
The bauldest o' them a' he cow'dB
They durst nae mair than he allow'dB
That was a lawF
We've lost a birkie weel worth gowdB
Willie's awaD
Now gawkies tawpies gowks and foolsG
Frae colleges and boarding schoolsG
May sprout like simmer puddock stoolsG
In glen or shawF
He wha could brush them down to moolsG
Willie's awaD
The brethren o' the Commerce ChaumerE
May mourn their loss wi' doofu' clamourE
He was a dictionar and grammarE
Amang them a'H
I fear they'll now mak mony a stammerE
Willie's awaD
Nae mair we see his levee doorE
Philosophers and poets pourE
And toothy critics by the scoreE
In bloody rawE
The adjutant o' a' the coreE
Willie's awaD
Now worthy Gregory's Latin faceG
Tytler's and Greenfield's modest graceG
Mackenzie Stewart sic a braceG
As Rome n'er sawG
They a' maun meet some ither placeG
Willie's awaD
Poor Burns e'en Scotch drink canna quickenI
He cheeps like some bewilder'd chickenI
Scar'd frae its minnie and the cleckinI
By hoodie crawG
Grief's gien his heart an unco kickin'I
Willie's awaD
Now ev'ry sour mou'd girnin' blellumA
And Calvin's fock are fit to fell himA
And self conceited critic skellumA
His quill may drawG
He wha could brawlie ward their bellumA
Willie's awaD
Up wimpling stately Tweed I've spedB
And Eden scenes on crystal JedB
And Ettrick banks now roaring redB
While tempests blawF
But every joy and pleasure's fledB
Willie's awaD
May I be slander's common speechJ
A text for infamy to preachJ
And lastly streekit out to bleachJ
In winter snawI
When I forget thee Willie CreechJ
Tho' far awaD
May never wicked fortune touzle himA
May never wicked man bamboozle himA
Until a pow as auld's MethusalemA
He canty clawF
Then to the blessed New JerusalemA
Fleet wing awaD

Robert Burns


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