The Poetry of Robert Burns Edited by William Ernest Henley and Thomas F. Henderson |
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A FRAGMENT: WHEN GUILFORD GOOD |
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 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
A FRAGMENT: WHEN GUILFORD GOOD
I
When Guilford good our pilot stood,An' did our hellim thraw, man;
Ae night, at tea, began a plea,
Within Americà, 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.
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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, whatreck, 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 cageWas kept at Boston-ha', man;
Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe
For Philadelphià, man;
Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin
Guid Christian bluid to draw, man;
But at New-York wi' knife an' fork
Sir-Loin he hackèd 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.
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V
Then Montague, an' Guilford too,Began to fear a fa', man;
And Sackville doure, wha stood the stoure
The German chief to thraw, man:
For Paddy Burke, like onie 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!’
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VIII
Behind the throne then Granville'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 heav'nly graith,
(Inspirèd 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 an' 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' bluid,
To mak it guid in law, man.
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |