The Twa Herds; Or, The Holy Tulyie Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AAAAAA BBBCBC CCCDCD BBBBBB EEEBEB BBBDBD CCCBCB FFFDFD BBBDBD BCBBBB BBBGBG HIJACA KLLMLM CCCDCD AAAAAA AAABAB AAANAL| O A' ye pious godly flocks | A |
| Weel fed on pastures orthodox | A |
| Wha now will keep you frae the fox | A |
| Or worrying tykes | A |
| Or wha will tent the waifs an' crocks | A |
| About the dykes | A |
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| The twa best herds in a' the wast | B |
| The e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast | B |
| These five an' twenty simmers past | B |
| Oh dool to tell | C |
| Hae had a bitter black out cast | B |
| Atween themsel' | C |
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| - | |
| O Moddie man an' wordy Russell | C |
| How could you raise so vile a bustle | C |
| Ye'll see how New Light herds will whistle | C |
| An' think it fine | D |
| The L 's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle | C |
| Sin' I hae min' | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| O sirs whae'er wad hae expeckit | B |
| Your duty ye wad sae negleckit | B |
| Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit | B |
| To wear the plaid | B |
| But by the brutes themselves eleckit | B |
| To be their guide | B |
| - | |
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| What flock wi' Moodie's flock could rank | E |
| Sae hale and hearty every shank | E |
| Nae poison'd soor Arminian stank | E |
| He let them taste | B |
| Frae Calvin's well aye clear drank | E |
| O sic a feast | B |
| - | |
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| The thummart willcat brock an' tod | B |
| Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood | B |
| He smell'd their ilka hole an' road | B |
| Baith out an in | D |
| An' weel he lik'd to shed their bluid | B |
| An' sell their skin | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| What herd like Russell tell'd his tale | C |
| His voice was heard thro' muir and dale | C |
| He kenn'd the L 's sheep ilka tail | C |
| Owre a' the height | B |
| An' saw gin they were sick or hale | C |
| At the first sight | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| He fine a mangy sheep could scrub | F |
| Or nobly fling the gospel club | F |
| And New Light herds could nicely drub | F |
| Or pay their skin | D |
| Could shake them o'er the burning dub | F |
| Or heave them in | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| Sic twa O do I live to see't | B |
| Sic famous twa should disagree't | B |
| And names like quot villain quot quot hypocrite quot | B |
| Ilk ither gi'en | D |
| While New Light herds wi' laughin spite | B |
| Say neither's liein | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| A' ye wha tent the gospel fauld | B |
| There's Duncan deep an' Peebles shaul | C |
| But chiefly thou apostle Auld | B |
| We trust in thee | B |
| That thou wilt work them het an' cauld | B |
| Till they agree | B |
| - | |
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| Consider sirs how we're beset | B |
| There's scarce a new herd that we get | B |
| But comes frae 'mang that cursed set | B |
| I winna name | G |
| I hope frae heav'n to see them yet | B |
| In fiery flame | G |
| - | |
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| Dalrymple has been lang our fae | H |
| M'Gill has wrought us meikle wae | I |
| An' that curs'd rascal ca'd M'Quhae | J |
| And baith the Shaws | A |
| That aft hae made us black an' blae | C |
| Wi' vengefu' paws | A |
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| Auld Wodrow lang has hatch'd mischief | K |
| We thought aye death wad bring relief | L |
| But he has gotten to our grief | L |
| Ane to succeed him | M |
| A chield wha' soundly buff our beef | L |
| I meikle dread him | M |
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| - | |
| And mony a ane that I could tell | C |
| Wha fain wad openly rebel | C |
| Forby turn coats amang oursel' | C |
| There's Smith for ane | D |
| I doubt he's but a grey nick quill | C |
| An' that ye'll fin' | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| O a' ye flocks o'er a the hills | A |
| By mosses meadows moors and fells | A |
| Come join your counsel and your skills | A |
| To cowe the lairds | A |
| An' get the brutes the power themsel's | A |
| To choose their herds | A |
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| Then Orthodoxy yet may prance | A |
| An' Learning in a woody dance | A |
| An' that fell cur ca'd Common Sense | A |
| That bites sae sair | B |
| Be banished o'er the sea to France | A |
| Let him bark there | B |
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| Then Shaw's an' D'rymple's eloquence | A |
| M'Gill's close nervous excellence | A |
| M'Quhae's pathetic manly sense | A |
| An' guid M'Math | N |
| Wi' Smith wha thro' the heart can glance | A |
| May a' pack aff | L |
Robert Burns
(1)
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About The Twa Herds; Or, The Holy Tulyie
The Twa Herds; Or, The Holy Tulyie is a poem by Robert Burns. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.