The Author's Earnest Cry And Prayer To The Scotch Representatives In The House Of Commons. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AB C DEFGFH IJKLIL CCCLCL MMMNMN OPPPPP QQQRQS NNNNNN TTTUTU LLLVLV LLLNLN LLLLLL WWWXXX UUUPUP LYLXLX NNNZNZ LLLZLZ ZLLXLX A2A2A2LB2L XXXLXL XXXZXZ C2D2C2UC2U ZZZLZL LLLXLX XXXXXX L XXXLXL XXXXXX B2B2B2UB2U NNNE2NE2 PPPXPX LLLULU B2B2B2PB2P

'Dearest of distillation last and bestA
How art thou lost 'B
-
Parody On MiltonC
-
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Ye Irish lords ye knights an' squiresD
Wha represent our brughs an' shiresE
An' doucely manage our affairsF
In ParliamentG
To you a simple Bardie's prayersF
Are humbly sentH
-
Alas my roupet Muse is hearseI
Your honours' hearts wi' grief 'twad pierceJ
To see her sittin' on her a eK
Low i' the dustL
An' scriechin' out prosaic verseI
An' like to brustL
-
Tell them wha hae the chief directionC
Scotland an' me's in great afflictionC
E'er sin' they laid that curst restrictionC
On aqua vitL
An' rouse them up to strong convictionC
An' move their pityL
-
Stand forth an' tell yon Premier youthM
The honest open naked truthM
Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouthM
His servants humbleN
The muckie devil blaw ye southM
If ye dissembleN
-
Does ony great man glunch an' gloomO
Speak out an' never fash your thumbP
Let posts an' pensions sink or soomP
Wi' them wha grant 'emP
If honestly they canna comeP
Far better want 'emP
-
In gath'rin votes you were na slackQ
Now stand as tightly by your tackQ
Ne'er claw your lug an' fidge your backQ
An' hum an' hawR
But raise your arm an' tell your crackQ
Before them a'S
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Paint Scotland greetin' owre her thrizzleN
Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whissleN
An' damn'd excisemen in a bussleN
Seizin' a stellN
Triumphant crushin't like a musselN
Or lampit shellN
-
Then on the tither hand present herT
A blackguard smuggler right behint herT
An' cheek for chow a chuffie vintnerT
Colleaguing joinU
Picking her pouch as bare as winterT
Of a' kind coinU
-
Is there that bears the name o' ScotL
But feels his heart's bluid rising hotL
To see his poor auld mither's potL
Thus dung in stavesV
An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groatL
By gallows knavesV
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Alas I'm but a nameless wightL
Trode i' the mire out o' sightL
But could I like Montgomeries fightL
Or gab like BoswellN
There's some sark necks I wad draw tightL
An' tie some hose wellN
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God bless your honours can ye see'tL
The kind auld canty carlin greetL
An' no get warmly on your feetL
An' gar them hear itL
An' tell them with a patriot heatL
Ye winna bear itL
-
Some o' you nicely ken the lawsW
To round the period an' pauseW
An' wi' rhetorie clause on clauseW
To mak haranguesX
Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa'sX
Auld Scotland's wrangsX
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Dempster a true blue Scot I'se warran'U
Thee aith detesting chaste KilkerranU
An' that glib gabbet Highland baronU
The Laird o' GrahamP
An' ane a chap that's damn'd auldfarrenU
Dundas his nameP
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Erskine a spunkie Norland billieL
True Campbells Frederick an' HayY
An' Livingstone the bauld Sir WillieL
An' monie ithersX
Whom auld Demosthenes or TullyL
Might own for brithersX
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Arouse my boys exert your mettleN
To get auld Scotland back her kettleN
Or faith I'll wad my new pleugh pettleN
Ye'll see't or langZ
She'll teach you wi' a reekin' whittleN
Anither sangZ
-
This while she's been in crankous moodL
Her lost militia fir'd her bluidL
Deil na they never mair do guidL
Play'd her that pliskieZ
An' now she's like to rin red wudL
About her whiskeyZ
-
An' L d if once they pit her till'tZ
Her tartan petticoat she'll kiltL
An' durk an' pistol at her beltL
She'll tak the streetsX
An' rin her whittle to the hiltL
I' th' first she meetsX
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For God sake sirs then speak her fairA2
An' straik her cannie wi' the hairA2
An' to the muckle house repairA2
Wi' instant speedL
An' strive wi' a' your wit and learB2
To get remeadL
-
Yon ill tongu'd tinkler Charlie FoxX
May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocksX
But gie him't het my hearty cocksX
E'en cowe the cadieL
An' send him to his dicing boxX
An' sportin' ladyL
-
Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock'sX
I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocksX
An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock'sX
Nine times a weekZ
If he some scheme like tea an' winnocksX
Wad kindly seekZ
-
Could he some commutation broachC2
I'll pledge my aith in guid braid ScotchD2
He need na fear their foul reproachC2
Nor eruditionU
Yon mixtie maxtie queer hotch potchC2
The CoalitionU
-
Auld Scotland has a raucle tongueZ
She's just a devil wi' a rungZ
An' if she promise auld or youngZ
To tak their partL
Tho' by the neck she should be strungZ
She'll no desertL
-
An' now ye chosen Five and FortyL
May still your mither's heart support yeL
Then though a minister grow dortyL
An' kick your placeX
Ye'll snap your fingers poor an' heartyL
Before his faceX
-
God bless your honours a' your daysX
Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claiseX
In spite o' a' the thievish kaesX
That haunt St Jamie'sX
Your humble Poet signs an' praysX
While Rab his name isX
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PostscriptL
-
Let half starv'd slaves in warmer skiesX
See future wines rich clust'ring riseX
Their lot auld Scotland ne'er enviesX
But blythe and friskyL
She eyes her freeborn martial boysX
Tak aff their whiskeyL
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What tho' their Phoebus kinder warmsX
While fragrance blooms and beauty charmsX
When wretches range in famish'd swarmsX
The scented grovesX
Or hounded forth dishonour armsX
In hungry drovesX
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Their gun's a burden on their shoutherB2
They downa bide the stink o' powtherB2
Their bauldest thought's a' hank'ring switherB2
To stan' or rinU
Till skelp a shot they're aff a' throtherB2
To save their skinU
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But bring a Scotsman frae his hillN
Clap in his check a Highland gillN
Say such is royal George's willN
An' there's the foeE2
He has nae thought but how to killN
Twa at a blowE2
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Nae could faint hearted doubtings tease himP
Death comes wi' fearless eye he sees himP
Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies himP
An' when he fa'sX
His latest draught o' breathin' lea'es himP
In faint huzzasX
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Sages their solemn een may steekL
An' raise a philosophic reekL
An' physically causes seekL
In clime an' seasonU
But tell me whiskey's name in GreekL
I'll tell the reasonU
-
Scotland my auld respected mitherB2
Tho' whiles ye moistify your leatherB2
Till whare ye sit on craps o' heatherB2
Ye tine your damP
Freedom and whiskey gang thegitherB2
Tak aff your dramP

Robert Burns



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