The Kirk's Alarm;[1] A Satire. (first Version.) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABCCD EEFDDF GHIJKL CCLMMN LLCOOC DDPCCP LLCOOC CCQRRS FFDCCD DDCSSC CCCCCC SSCSSP LCFDDF CCHPOH SSDCCD OOTCCF DDCUUC DDVDDWOrthodox orthodox | A |
Wha believe in John Knox | A |
Let me sound an alarm to your conscience | B |
There's a heretic blast | C |
Has been blawn in the wast | C |
That what is no sense must be nonsense | D |
- | |
Dr Mac Dr Mac | E |
You should stretch on a rack | E |
To strike evil doers wi' terror | F |
To join faith and sense | D |
Upon ony pretence | D |
Is heretic damnable error | F |
- | |
Town of Ayr town of Ayr | G |
It was mad I declare | H |
To meddle wi' mischief a brewing | I |
Provost John is still deaf | J |
To the church's relief | K |
And orator Bob is its ruin | L |
- | |
D'rymple mild D'rymple mild | C |
Thro' your heart's like a child | C |
And your life like the new driven snaw | L |
Yet that winna save ye | M |
Auld Satan must hav ye | M |
For preaching that three's ane an' twa | N |
- | |
Rumble John Rumble John | L |
Mount the steps wi' a groan | L |
Cry the book is wi' heresy cramm'd | C |
Then lug out your ladle | O |
Deal brimstone like adle | O |
And roar every note of the danm'd | C |
- | |
Simper James Simper James | D |
Leave the fair Killie dames | D |
There's a holier chase in your view | P |
I'll lay on your head | C |
That the pack ye'll soon lead | C |
For puppies like you there's but few | P |
- | |
Singet Sawney Singet Sawney | L |
Are ye herding the penny | L |
Unconscious what evil await | C |
Wi' a jump yell and howl | O |
Alarm every soul | O |
For the foul thief is just at your gate | C |
- | |
Daddy Auld Daddy Auld | C |
There's a tod in the fauld | C |
A tod meikle waur than the clerk | Q |
Though yo can do little skaith | R |
Ye'll be in at the death | R |
And gif ye canna bite ye may bark | S |
- | |
Davie Bluster Davie Bluster | F |
If for a saint ye do muster | F |
The corps is no nice of recruits | D |
Yet to worth let's be just | C |
Royal blood ye might boast | C |
If the ass was the king of the brutes | D |
- | |
Jamy Goose Jamy Goose | D |
Ye ha'e made but toom roose | D |
In hunting the wicked lieutenant | C |
But the Doctor's your mark | S |
For the L d's haly ark | S |
He has cooper'd and cawd a wrang pin in't | C |
- | |
Poet Willie Poet Willie | C |
Fie the Doctor a volley | C |
Wi' your liberty's chain and your wit | C |
O'er Pegasus' side | C |
Ye ne'er laid astride | C |
Ye but smelt man the place where he | C |
- | |
Andro Gouk Andro Gouk | S |
Ye may slander the book | S |
And the book not the waur let me tell ye | C |
Ye are rich and look big | S |
But lay by hat and wig | S |
And ye'll ha'e a calf's head o' sma' value | P |
- | |
Barr Steenie Barr Steenie | L |
What mean ye what mean ye | C |
If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter | F |
Ye may ha'e some pretence | D |
To havins and sense | D |
Wi' people wha ken ye nae better | F |
- | |
Irvine side Irvine side | C |
Wi' your turkey cock pride | C |
Of manhood but sum' is your share | H |
Ye've the figure 'tis true | P |
Even your faes will allow | O |
And your friends they dae grunt you nae mair | H |
- | |
Muirland Jock Muirland Jock | S |
When the L d makes a rock | S |
To crush Common sense for her sins | D |
If ill manners were wit | C |
There's no mortal so fit | C |
To confound the poor Doctor at ance | D |
- | |
Holy Will Holy Will | O |
There was wit i' your skull | O |
When ye pilfer'd the alms o' the poor | T |
The timmer is scant | C |
When ye're ta'en for a saunt | C |
Wha should swing in a rape for an hour | F |
- | |
Calvin's sons Calvin's sons | D |
Seize your spir'tual guns | D |
Ammunition you never can need | C |
Your hearts are the stuff | U |
Will be powther enough | U |
And your skulls are storehouses o' lead | C |
- | |
- | |
Poet Burns Poet Burns | D |
Wi' your priest skelping turns | D |
Why desert ye your auld native shire | V |
Your muse is a gipsie | D |
E'en tho' she were tipsie | D |
She could ca' us nae waur than we are | W |
Robert Burns
(1)
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