Robert Burns

The Following Poem was Written to a Gentleman who had Sent him a Newspaper, and Offered to Continue it Free of Expense

KIND Sir, I’ve read your paper through,
And, faith, to me, ‘twas really new!
How guess’d ye, Sir, what maist I wanted?
This mony a day I’ve grain’d and gaunted,
To ken what French mischief was brewin’;
Or what the drumlie Dutch were doin’;
That vile doup-skelper, Emperor Joseph,
If Venus yet had got his nose off;
Or how the collieshangie works
Atween the Russians and the Turks;
Or if the Swede, before he halt,
Would play anither Charles the Twalt:
If Denmark, any body spak o’t;
Or Poland, wha had now the tack o’t;
How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin’;
How libbet Italy was singin’;
If Spaniard, Portuguese or Swiss,
Were sayin’ or takin’ aught amiss:
Or how our merry lads at hame,
In Britain’s court, kept up the game:
How royal George, the Lord leuk o’er him!
Was managing St. Stephen’s quorum;
If sleekit Chatham Will was livin’,
Or glaikit Charlie got his nieve in;
How daddie Burke the plea was cookin’,
If Warren Hastings’ neck was yeukin’;
How cesses, stents, and fees were rax’d,
Or if bare arses yet were tax’d;
The news o’ princes, dukes, and earls,
Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera-girls;
If that daft buckie, Geordie Wales,
Was threshin’ still at hizzies’ tails;
Or if he was grown oughtlins doucer,
And no a perfect kintra cooser.
A’ this and mair I never heard of;
And, but for you, I might despair’d of.
So gratefu’ back your news I send you,
And pray a’ guid things may attend you!

  "Ellisland, Monday Morning," 1790.

"Remonstrance to the Gentleman to whom 
the foregoing Poem was addressed."

  Dear Peter, dear Peter,
  We poor sons of metre
Are often negleckit, ye ken;
  For instance, your sheet, man,
  (Though glad I’m to see’t, man,)
I get it no ae day in ten.