John Skinner

On Burns’ Address to a Louse

A Lousie on a lady’s bonnet! 
Disgracefu’ dirgy! fie upon it! 
An’ you, forsooth, to write a sonnet 
	On sic a theme! 
 Guid fa’ me, man, I wad na done it 
 	For a’ your fame.

Nae doubt your ballad’s wise and witty; 
But fowks will say it was na pretty 
To yoke sic twa in conjunct ditty, 
	Them baith to hit; 
And ca’ you but a twa-fac’d nitty, 
 	Wi’ a’ your wit.

For a’ your being a bard of note, 
Ye shou’d na minded sic a mote, 
To mak’ a warl’s wonner o’t, 
 	As ye hae dane; 
But past it for an orra spot, 
	Whare’t shou’d na been.

Your philosophic fitty fies, 
Tho’ clad in sweet poetic guise, 
The ladies will them a’ despise, 
 	Gin ye express 
The least rebaghle ony wise 
 	Upo’ their dress.

When ye bemoan’d the herryt mousie, 
Rinning as gin’t had been frae pousie; 
When couter-nib down-stroy’d her housie, 
 	Ye pleas’d us a’; 
But thus to lilt about a lousie, 
 	Black be your fa’!

What tho’ at godly Ayrshire meeting, 
Sic thing had happen’d past dispeeting, 
Was that eneugh to fa’ a writing 
 	About a story, 
That ladies canna hear repeating 
 	Wi’ ony glory?

Its nae mows matter, man, to jibe, 
Your jeer-cuts at the sweet-fac’d tribe; 
Their charms will ay some body bribe 
 	To tak’ side wi’ them, 
Whan chiels like you set up to scribe 
 	O’er freely o’ them.

The bonny Duchess, seil upon her! 
That’s heez’d you up to a’ your honour, 
And been to you sae braw a Donor, 
	May say “what raiks!” 
And think ye’ve flung some wee dishonour 
 	At a’ the sex.

Fouk wad do well to steek their een, 
At sights that shou’d na a’ be seen, 
Or whan they see, lat jokes alane, 
 	Gin they had sense; 
For little jokes hae aften gi’en 
	Fell great offence.

I’se warran’ ye hae read or heard, 
Of an ald hairum-skairum bard, 
Saw anes a sight was as ill-fawrd*,
 	As your’s cou’d be; 
An for his sight got sma’ reward, 
 	And sae may ye.

Sae, Robie Burns, tak’ tent in time, 
And keep mair haivins wi’ your rhyme, 
Else you may come to rue the crime 
 	O’ sic a sonnet, 
And wiss ye had ne’er seen a styme 
 	O’ Louse nor Bonnet.

* “Cur aliquid vidi, cur noxia lumina feci?” – Ovid.