The Complete Works. Robert Burns

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      Again the silent wheels of time

      Their annual round have driv’n,

      And you, tho’ scarce in maiden prime,

      Are so much nearer Heav’n.

      No gifts have I from Indian coasts

      The infant year to hail:

      I send you more than India boasts

      In Edwin’s simple tale.

      Our sex with guile and faithless love

      Is charg’d, perhaps, too true;

      But may, dear maid, each lover prove

      An Edwin still to you!

      I.

      When Guildford good our pilot stood,

      And did our hellim thraw, man,

      Ae night, at tea, began a plea,

      Within America, man:

      Then up they gat the maskin-pat,

      And in the sea did jaw, man;

      An’ did nae less in full Congress,

      Than quite refuse our law, man.

      II.

      Then thro’ the lakes Montgomery takes,

      I wat he was na slaw, man;

      Down Lowrie’s burn he took a turn,

      And Carleton did ca’, man;

      But yet, what-reck, he, at Quebec,

      Montgomery-like did fa’, man,

      Wi’ sword in hand, before his band,

      Amang his en’mies a’, man.

      III.

      Poor Tammy Gage, within a cage,

      Was kept at Boston ha’, man;

      Till Willie Howe took o’er the knowe

      For Philadelphia, man;

      Wi’ sword an’ gun he thought a sin

      Guid Christian blood to draw, man:

      But at New York, wi’ knife an’ fork,

      Sir-loin he hacked sma’, man.

      IV.

      Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an’ whip,

      Till Fraser brave did fa’, man,

      Then lost his way, ae misty day,

      In Saratoga shaw, man.

      Cornwallis fought as lang’s he dought,

      An’ did the buckskins claw, man;

      But Clinton’s glaive frae rust to save,

      He hung it to the wa’, man.

      V.

      Then Montague, an’ Guilford, too,

      Began to fear a fa’, man;

      And Sackville dour, wha stood the stoure,

      The German Chief to thraw, man;

      For Paddy Burke, like ony Turk,

      Nae mercy had at a’, man;

      An’ Charlie Fox threw by the box,

      An’ lows’d his tinkler jaw, man.

      VI.

      Then Rockingham took up the game,

      Till death did on him ca’, man;

      When Shelburne meek held up his cheek,

      Conform to gospel law, man;

      Saint Stephen’s boys, wi’ jarring noise,

      They did his measures thraw, man,

      For North an’ Fox united stocks,

      An’ bore him to the wa’, man.

      VII.

      Then clubs an’ hearts were Charlie’s cartes,

      He swept the stakes awa’, man,

      Till the diamond’s ace, of Indian race,

      Led him a sair faux pas, man;

      The Saxon lads, wi’ loud placads,

      On Chatham’s boy did ca’, man;

      An’ Scotland drew her pipe, an’ blew,

      “Up, Willie, waur them a’, man!”

      VIII.

      Behind the throne then Grenville’s gone,

      A secret word or twa, man;

      While slee Dundas arous’d the class,

      Be-north the Roman wa’, man:

      An’ Chatham’s wraith, in heavenly graith,

      (Inspired Bardies saw, man)

      Wi’ kindling eyes cry’d “Willie, rise!

      Would I hae fear’d them a’, man?”

      IX.

      But, word an’ blow, North, Fox, and Co.,

      Gowff’d Willie like a ba’, man,

      Till Suthron raise, and coost their claise

      Behind him in a raw, man;

      An’ Caledon threw by the drone,

      An’ did her whittle draw, man;

      An’ swoor fu’ rude, thro’ dirt an’ blood

      To make it guid in law, man.

      I.

      Dire was the hate at old Harlaw,

      That Scot to Scot did carry;

      And dire the discord Langside saw,

      For beauteous, hapless Mary:

      But Scot with Scot ne’er met so hot,

      Or were more in fury seen, Sir,

      Than ’twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job—

      Who should be Faculty’s Dean, Sir.—

      II.

      This Hal for genius, wit, and lore,

      Among the first was number’d;

      But pious Bob, ‘mid learning’s store,

      Commandment tenth remember’d.—

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