The Twa Herds: Or, The Holy Tulzie. Poem Rhyme Scheme

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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 and crocks	A
About the dykes	A
	-
The twa best herds in a' the wast	B
That e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast	B
These five and twenty simmers past	B
O dool to tell	C
Ha'e had a bitter black out cast	B
Atween themsel	C
	-
O Moodie man and wordy Russell	C
How could you raise so vile a bustle	C
Ye'll see how New Light herds will whistle	C
And think it fine	D
The Lord's cause ne'er got sic a twistle	C
Sin' I ha'e min'	D
	-
O sirs whae'er wad ha'e 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
	-
What flock wi' Moodie's flock could rank	E
Sae hale and hearty every shank	E
Nae poison'd sour Arminian stank	E
He let them taste	B
Frae Calvin's well ay clear they drank	E
O sic a feast	B
	-
The thummart wil' cat brock and tod	B
Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood	B
He smelt their ilka hole and road	B
Baith out and in	D
And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid	B
And sell their skin	D
	-
What herd like Russell tell'd his tale	C
His voice was heard thro' muir and dale	C
He kend the Lord's sheep ilka tail	C
O'er a' the height	B
And 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 disagreet	B
An' names like villain hypocrite	B
Ilk ither gi'en	D
While New Light herds wi' laughin' spite	B
Say neither's liein'	D
	-
An' ye wha tent the gospel fauld	B
There's Duncan deep and Peebles shaul	C
But chiefly thou apostle Auld	B
We trust in thee	B
That thou wilt work them hot and cauld	B
Till they agree	B
	-
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
	-
Dalrymple has been lang our fae	H
M'Gill has wrought us meikle wae	I
And that curs'd rascal call'd M'Quhae	J
And baith the Shaws	A
That aft ha'e made us black and blae	C
Wi' vengefu' paws	A
	-
Auld Wodrow lang has hatch'd mischief	K
We thought ay death wad bring relief	L
But he has gotten to our grief	L
Ane to succeed him	M
A chield wha'll soundly buff our beef	L
I meikle dread him	M
	-
And mony a ane that I could tell	C
Wha fain would openly rebel	C
Forbye 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 cow the lairds	A
And get the brutes the powers themsels	A
To choose their herds	A
	-
Then Orthodoxy yet may prance	A
And Learning in a woody dance	A
And that fell cur ca'd Common Sense	A
That bites sae sair	B
Be banish'd o'er the sea to France	A
Let him bark there	B
	-
Then Shaw's and Dalrymple's eloquence	A
M'Gill's close nervous excellence	A
M'Quhae's pathetic manly sense	A
And guid M'Math	N
Wi' Smith wha thro' the heart can glance	A
May a' pack aff	L

Robert Burns

The Twa Herds: Or, The Holy Tulzie. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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