The Ordination. Poem Rhyme Scheme

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For sense they little owe to frugal heav'n	A
To please the mob they hide the little giv'n	A
	-
	-
Kilmarnock wabsters fidge an' claw	B
An' pour your creeshie nations	C
An' ye wha leather rax an' draw	B
Of a' denominations	C
Swith to the Laigh Kirk ane an' a'	D
An' there tak up your stations	C
Then aff to Begbie's in a raw	E
An' pour divine libations	C
For joy this day	F
	-
Curst Common Sense that imp o' hell	G
Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder	H
But Oliphant aft made her yell	G
An' Russell sair misca'd her	H
This day Mackinlay taks the flail	I
And he's the boy will blaud her	H
He'll clap a shangan on her tail	I
An' set the bairns to daud her	H
Wi' dirt this day	F
	-
Mak haste an' turn King David owre	H
An' lilt wi' holy clangor	H
O' double verse come gie us four	H
An' skirl up the Bangor	H
This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure	H
Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her	H
For Heresy is in her pow'r	H
And gloriously she'll whang her	H
Wi' pith this day	F
	-
Come let a proper text be read	J
An' touch it aff wi' vigour	H
How graceless Ham leugh at his dad	K
Which made Canaan a niger	H
Or Phineas drove the murdering blade	L
Wi' wh re abhorring rigour	H
Or Zipporah the scauldin' jad	L
Was like a bluidy tiger	H
I' th' inn that day	L
	-
There try his mettle on the creed	L
And bind him down wi' caution	A
That stipend is a carnal weed	L
He taks but for the fashion	A
And gie him o'er the flock to feed	L
And punish each transgression	A
Especial rams that cross the breed	L
Gie them sufficient threshin'	A
Spare them nae day	L
	-
Now auld Kilmarnock cock thy tail	I
And toss thy horns fu' canty	L
Nae mair thou'lt rowte out owre the dale	I
Because thy pasture's scanty	L
For lapfu's large o' gospel kail	I
Shall fill thy crib in plenty	L
An' runts o' grace the pick and wale	I
No gi'en by way o' dainty	L
But ilka day	L
	-
Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep	M
To think upon our Zion	A
And hing our fiddles up to sleep	M
Like baby clouts a dryin'	A
Come screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep	M
And o'er the thairms be tryin'	A
Oh rare to see our elbucks wheep	M
An' a' like lamb tails flyin'	A
Fu' fast this day	L
	-
Lang Patronage wi' rod o' airn	A
Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin'	A
As lately Fenwick sair forfairn	A
Has proven to its ruin	A
Our patron honest man Glencairn	A
He saw mischief was brewin'	A
And like a godly elect bairn	A
He's wal'd us out a true ane	A
And sound this day	L
	-
Now Robinson harangue nae mair	H
But steek your gab for ever	H
Or try the wicked town of Ayr	H
For there they'll think you clever	H
Or nae reflection on your lear	H
Ye may commence a shaver	H
Or to the Netherton repair	H
And turn a carpet weaver	H
Aff hand this day	L
	-
Mutrie and you were just a match	N
We never had sic twa drones	C
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch	O
Just like a winkin' baudrons	C
And ay' he catch'd the tither wretch	O
To fry them in his caudrons	C
But now his honour maun detach	O
Wi' a' his brimstane squadrons	C
Fast fast this day	L
	-
See see auld Orthodoxy's faes	C
She's swingein' through the city	L
Hark how the nine tail'd cat she plays	C
I vow it's unco pretty	L
There Learning with his Greekish face	C
Grunts out some Latin ditty	L
And Common Sense is gaun she says	C
To mak to Jamie Beattie	L
Her plaint this day	L
	-
But there's Morality himsel'	I
Embracing all opinions	C
Hear how he gies the tither yell	I
Between his twa companions	C
See how she peels the skin an' fell	I
As ane were peelin' onions	C
Now there they're packed aff to hell	I
And banished our dominions	C
Henceforth this day	L
	-
O happy day rejoice rejoice	C
Come bouse about the porter	H
Morality's demure decoys	C
Shall here nae mair find quarter	H
Mackinlay Russell are the boys	C
That Heresy can torture	H
They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse	C
And cowe her measure shorter	H
By th' head some day	L
	-
Come bring the tither mutchkin in	A
And here's for a conclusion	A
To every New Light mother's son	A
From this time forth Confusion	A
If mair they deave us wi' their din	A
Or Patronage intrusion	A
We'll light a spunk and ev'ry skin	A
We'll rin them aff in fusion	A
Like oil some day	L

Robert Burns

The Ordination. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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