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Poem by Robert Burns On the Late Captain Grose’s Peregrinations COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM. HEAR, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots, Free Maidenkirk to Johnny Greats;- If there’s a hole in a’ your coats, I rede you tent it: A chield’s amang you taking notes, And, faith, he’ll prent it. If in your bounds ye chance to light Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight, O’ stature short, but genius bright, That’s he, mark weel! And wow! he has an unco sleight O’ cauk and keel. By some auld houlet-haunted biggin, Or kirk deserted by its riggin’ It’s ten to ane ye’ll find him snug in Some eldritch part, Wi’ deils, they say, Lord save’s! colleaguin’ At some black art. Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha’ or cham’er, Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamour, And you, deep read in hell’s black grammar, Warlocks and witches- Ye’ll quake at his conjuring hammer, Ye midnight bitches! It’s tauld he was a sodger bred, And ane wad rather fa’n than fled; But now he’s quat the spurtle-blade And dog-skin wallet, And taen the-Antiquarian trade I think they call it. He has a fouth o’ auld nick-nackets: Rusty airn caps and jinglin’ jackets, Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets, A towmont gude; And parritch-pats and auld saut-backets Before the flood. Of Eve’s first fire he has a cinder; Auld Tubulcain’s fire-shool and fender; That which distinguished the gender O’ Balaam’s ass; A broom-stick o’ the witch of Endor, Weel shod wi’ brass. Forbye, he’ll shape you aff fu’ gleg The cut of Adam’s philibeg; The knife that nicket Abel’s craig- He’ll prove you fully It was a faulding jocteleg, Or lang-kail gullie. But wad ye see him in his glee, For meikle glee and fun has he, Then set him down, and twa or three Guid fellows wi’ him; And port, O port! shine thou a wee, And then yell see him! Now, by the Pow’rs o’ verse and prose! Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose! Whae’er o’ thee shall ill suppose, They sair misca’ thee; I’d take the rascal by the nose, Wad say ‘Shame fa’ thee!’ 1789 Robert Burns Robert Burns's other poems:
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