Second Epistle To J. Lapraik Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AAABAB CDDEDE DDDFDF GHHHHH DDDDDD AAAHAH FFFIFI JJJKLM AAANAN FFFFFF HHHOHO PPPDPD HHHHHH HHHHHH PPPDPD PPPHPH QRQHQH DDDFDF

WHILE new ca'd kye rowte at the stakeA
An' pownies reek in pleugh or braikA
This hour on e'enin's edge I takeA
To own I'm debtorB
To honest hearted auld LapraikA
For his kind letterB
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Forjesket sair with weary legsC
Rattlin the corn out owre the rigsD
Or dealing thro' amang the naigsD
Their ten hours' biteE
My awkart Muse sair pleads and begsD
I would na writeE
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The tapetless ramfeezl'd hizzieD
She's saft at best an' something lazyD
Quo' she Ye ken we've been sae busyD
This month an' mairF
That trowth my head is grown right dizzieD
An' something sairF
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Her dowff excuses pat me madG
Conscience says I ye thowless jadeH
I'll write an' that a hearty blaudH
This vera nightH
So dinna ye affront your tradeH
But rhyme it rightH
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Shall bauld Lapraik the king o' heartsD
Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartesD
Roose you sae weel for your desertsD
In terms sae friendlyD
Yet ye'll neglect to shaw your partsD
An' thank him kindlyD
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Sae I gat paper in a blinkA
An' down gaed stumpie in the inkA
Quoth I Before I sleep a winkA
I vow I'll close itH
An' if ye winna mak it clinkA
By Jove I'll prose itH
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Sae I've begun to scrawl but whetherF
In rhyme or prose or baith thegitherF
Or some hotch potch that's rightly neitherF
Let time mak proofI
But I shall scribble down some bletherF
Just clean aff loofI
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My worthy friend ne'er grudge an' carpJ
Tho' fortune use you hard an' sharpJ
Come kittle up your moorland harpJ
Wi' gleesome touchK
Ne'er mind how Fortune waft and warpL
She's but a bitchM
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She 's gien me mony a jirt an' flegA
Sin' I could striddle owre a rigA
But by the L d tho' I should begA
Wi' lyart powN
I'll laugh an' sing an' shake my legA
As lang's I dowN
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Now comes the sax an' twentieth simmerF
I've seen the bud upon the timmerF
Still persecuted by the limmerF
Frae year to yearF
But yet despite the kittle kimmerF
I Rob am hereF
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Do ye envy the city gentH
Behint a kist to lie an' sklentH
Or pursue proud big wi' cent per centH
An' muckle wameO
In some bit brugh to representH
A bailie's nameO
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Or is't the paughty feudal thaneP
Wi' ruffl'd sark an' glancing caneP
Wha thinks himsel nae sheep shank baneP
But lordly stalksD
While caps and bonnets aff are taenP
As by he walksD
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O Thou wha gies us each guid giftH
Gie me o' wit an' sense a liftH
Then turn me if thou please adriftH
Thro' Scotland wideH
Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shiftH
In a' their prideH
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Were this the charter of our stateH
On pain o' hell be rich an' greatH
Damnation then would be our fateH
Beyond remeadH
But thanks to heaven that's no the gateH
We learn our creedH
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For thus the royal mandate ranP
When first the human race beganP
The social friendly honest manP
Whate'er he beD
'Tis he fulfils great Nature's planP
And none but heD
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O mandate glorious and divineP
The ragged followers o' the NineP
Poor thoughtless devils yet may shineP
In glorious lightH
While sordid sons o' Mammon's lineP
Are dark as nightH
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Tho' here they scrape an' squeeze an' growlQ
Their worthless nievefu' of a soulR
May in some future carcase howlQ
The forest's frightH
Or in some day detesting owlQ
May shun the lightH
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Then may Lapraik and Burns ariseD
To reach their native kindred skiesD
And sing their pleasures hopes an' joysD
In some mild sphereF
Still closer knit in friendship's tiesD
Each passing yearF

Robert Burns



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