Holy Fair, The Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCACAD EDFDGAGHD ACACIJIJD CJCJGCKCD LMNCBABAD CAOAPCQCD RCRCKSKSD CCCCTACAD CCCCUCUCD VWVWKWKXD SAYACWCWD RARAZCZCD CSCSCCCCD AAAAAAAAD A2WB2WC2B2FFF CCCCCWCWF CCCCKSFSF BD2LE2IAIAF FFFFKCKCF CACACTF2TF FAFALALAF F2FF2FCCCCF G2SG2SCSCS| Upon a simmer Sunday morn | A |
| When Nature's face is fair | B |
| I walked forth to view the corn | A |
| An' snuff the caller air | B |
| The risin' sun owre Galston muirs | C |
| Wi' glorious light was glintin | A |
| The hares were hirplin down the furrs | C |
| The lav'rocks they were chantin | A |
| Fu' sweet that day | D |
| - | |
| As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad | E |
| To see a scene sae gay | D |
| Three hizzies early at the road | F |
| Cam skelpin up the way | D |
| Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black | G |
| But ane wi' lyart linin | A |
| The third that gaed a wee a back | G |
| Was in the fashion shining | H |
| Fu' gay that day | D |
| - | |
| The twa appear'd like sisters twin | A |
| In feature form an' claes | C |
| Their visage wither'd lang an' thin | A |
| An' sour as ony slaes | C |
| The third cam up hap step an' lowp | I |
| As light as ony lambie | J |
| An' wi' a curchie low did stoop | I |
| As soon as e'er she saw me | J |
| Fu' kind that day | D |
| - | |
| Wi' bonnet aff quoth I Sweet lass | C |
| I think ye seem to ken me | J |
| I'm sure I've seen that bonie face | C |
| But yet I canna name ye | J |
| Quo' she an' laughin as she spak | G |
| An' taks me by the han's | C |
| Ye for my sake hae gien the feck | K |
| Of a' the ten comman's | C |
| A screed some day | D |
| - | |
| My name is Fun your cronie dear | L |
| The nearest friend ye hae | M |
| An' this is Superstition here | N |
| An' that's Hypocrisy | C |
| I'm gaun to Mauchline Holy Fair | B |
| To spend an hour in daffin | A |
| Gin ye'll go there you runkl'd pair | B |
| We will get famous laughin | A |
| At them this day | D |
| - | |
| Quoth I With a' my heart I'll do't | C |
| I'll get my Sunday's sark on | A |
| An' meet you on the holy spot | O |
| Faith we'se hae fine remarkin | A |
| Then I gaed hame at crowdie time | P |
| An' soon I made me ready | C |
| For roads were clad frae side to side | Q |
| Wi' monie a wearie body | C |
| In droves that day | D |
| - | |
| Here farmers gash in ridin graith | R |
| Gaed hoddin by their cotters | C |
| There swankies young in braw braidclaith | R |
| Are springin owre the gutters | C |
| The lasses skelpin barefit thrang | K |
| In silks an' scarlets glitter | S |
| Wi' sweet milk cheese in mony a whang | K |
| An' farls bak'd wi' butter | S |
| Fu' crump that day | D |
| - | |
| When by the plate we set our nose | C |
| Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence | C |
| A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws | C |
| An' we maun draw our tippence | C |
| Then in we go to see the show | T |
| On ev'ry side they're gath'rin | A |
| Some carryin dails some chairs an' stools | C |
| An' some are busy bleth'rin | A |
| Right loud that day | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| - | |
| Here some are thinkin on their sins | C |
| An' some upo' their claes | C |
| Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins | C |
| Anither sighs an' prays | C |
| On this hand sits a chosen swatch | U |
| Wi' screw'd up grace proud faces | C |
| On that a set o' chaps at watch | U |
| Thrang winkin on the lasses | C |
| To chairs that day | D |
| - | |
| O happy is that man and blest | V |
| Nae wonder that it pride him | W |
| Whase ain dear lass that he likes best | V |
| Comes clinkin down beside him | W |
| Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back | K |
| He sweetly does compose him | W |
| Which by degrees slips round her neck | K |
| An's loof upon her bosom | X |
| Unken'd that day | D |
| - | |
| Now a' the congregation o'er | S |
| Is silent expectation | A |
| For Moodie speels the holy door | Y |
| Wi' tidings o' salvation | A |
| Should Hornie as in ancient days | C |
| 'Mang sons o' God present him | W |
| The vera sight o' Moodie's face | C |
| To's ain het hame had sent him | W |
| Wi' fright that day | D |
| - | |
| Hear how he clears the points o' faith | R |
| Wi' rattlin an' wi' thumpin | A |
| Now meekly calm now wild in wrath | R |
| He's stampin an' he's jumpin | A |
| His lengthen'd chin his turn'd up snout | Z |
| His eldritch squeal and gestures | C |
| Oh how they fire the heart devout | Z |
| Like cantharidian plaisters | C |
| On sic a day | D |
| - | |
| But hark the tent has chang'd its voice | C |
| There's peace and rest nae langer | S |
| For a' the real judges rise | C |
| They canna sit for anger | S |
| Smith opens out his cauld harangues | C |
| On practice and on morals | C |
| An' aff the godly pour in thrangs | C |
| To gie the jars an' barrels | C |
| A lift that day | D |
| - | |
| What signifies his barren shine | A |
| Of moral pow'rs and reason | A |
| His English style an' gesture fine | A |
| Are a' clean out o' season | A |
| Like Socrates or Antonine | A |
| Or some auld pagan heathen | A |
| The moral man he does define | A |
| But ne'er a word o' faith in | A |
| That's right that day | D |
| - | |
| In guid time comes an antidote | A2 |
| Against sic poison'd nostrum | W |
| For Peebles frae the water fit | B2 |
| Ascends the holy rostrum | W |
| See up he's got the word o' God | C2 |
| An' meek an' mim has view'd it | B2 |
| While Common Sense has ta'en the road | F |
| An's aff an' up the Cowgate | F |
| Fast fast that day | F |
| - | |
| Wee Miller niest the Guard relieves | C |
| An' Orthodoxy raibles | C |
| Tho' in his heart he weel believes | C |
| An' thinks it auld wives' fables | C |
| But faith the birkie wants a Manse | C |
| So cannilie he hums them | W |
| Altho' his carnal wit an' sense | C |
| Like hafflins wise o'ercomes him | W |
| At times that day | F |
| - | |
| Now butt an' ben the change house fills | C |
| Wi' yill caup commentators | C |
| Here's cryin out for bakes an gills | C |
| An' there the pint stowp clatters | C |
| While thick an' thrang an' loud an' lang | K |
| Wi' logic an' wi' Scripture | S |
| They raise a din that in the end | F |
| Is like to breed a rupture | S |
| O' wrath that day | F |
| - | |
| Leeze me on drink it gies us mair | B |
| Than either school or college | D2 |
| It kindles wit it waukens lear | L |
| It pangs us fou o' knowledge | E2 |
| Be't whisky gill or penny wheep | I |
| Or ony stronger potion | A |
| It never fails on drinkin deep | I |
| To kittle up our notion | A |
| By night or day | F |
| - | |
| The lads an' lasses blythely bent | F |
| To mind baith saul an' body | F |
| Sit round the table weel content | F |
| An' steer about the toddy | F |
| On this ane's dress an' that ane's leuk | K |
| They're makin observations | C |
| While some are cozie i' the neuk | K |
| An' forming assignations | C |
| To meet some day | F |
| - | |
| But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts | C |
| Till a' the hills rae rairin | A |
| An' echoes back return the shouts | C |
| Black Russell is na sparin | A |
| His piercing words like highlan' swords | C |
| Divide the joints an' marrow | T |
| His talk o' hell whare devils dwell | F2 |
| Our vera sauls does harrow | T |
| Wi' fright that day | F |
| - | |
| A vast unbottom'd boundless pit | F |
| Fill'd fou o' lowin brunstane | A |
| Whase ragin flame an' scorching heat | F |
| Wad melt the hardest whun stane | A |
| The half asleep start up wi' fear | L |
| An' think they hear it roarin | A |
| When presently it does appear | L |
| 'Twas but some neibor snorin | A |
| Asleep that day | F |
| - | |
| 'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell | F2 |
| How mony stories past | F |
| An' how they crouded to the yill | F2 |
| When they were a' dismist | F |
| How drink gaed round in cogs an' caups | C |
| Amang the furms an' benches | C |
| An' cheese and bred frae women's laps | C |
| Was dealt about in lunches | C |
| An' dauds that day | F |
| - | |
| In comes a gausie gash guidwife | G2 |
| An' sits down by the fire | S |
| Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife | G2 |
| The lasses they are shyer | S |
| The auld guidmen about the grace | C |
| Frae side to side they bother | S |
| Till some ane by his bonnet lays | C |
| And gi'es them't like a tether | S |
| - |
Robert Burns
(1)
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About Holy Fair, The
Holy Fair, The is a poem by Robert Burns. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
