For other versions of this work, see The Ordination (Burns).
THE ORDINATION.
For sense, they little owe to frugal Heav'n. . .
To please the Mob, they hide the little giv'n.
To please the Mob, they hide the little giv'n.
K——— Wabsters, fidge and claw,
And pour your creeshie nations;
And ye wha leather rax and draw,
Of a' denominations;
Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ate and a',
And there take up your stations;
Then aff to B— b—s in a raw,
And pour divine libations
For joy that day.
And pour your creeshie nations;
And ye wha leather rax and draw,
Of a' denominations;
Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ate and a',
And there take up your stations;
Then aff to B— b—s in a raw,
And pour divine libations
For joy that day.
Curst Common-sense, that imp o' hell,
Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder[1],
But O——— aft made her yell,
And R——— sair misca'd her
This day M'——— taks the flail,
And he's the boy will blaud her:
He'll clap a shangan to her tail,
And set the bairns to daud her
Wi' dirt that day.
Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder[1],
But O——— aft made her yell,
And R——— sair misca'd her
This day M'——— taks the flail,
And he's the boy will blaud her:
He'll clap a shangan to her tail,
And set the bairns to daud her
Wi' dirt that day.
Make haste and turn king David owre,
And lilt wi' holy clangour;
O' double verse come gie us four,
And skirl up the Bangor:
This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure,
Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,
For Heresy is in her pow'r,
And gloriously she'll whang her
Wi' pith that day.
And lilt wi' holy clangour;
O' double verse come gie us four,
And skirl up the Bangor:
This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure,
Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,
For Heresy is in her pow'r,
And gloriously she'll whang her
Wi' pith that day.
Come, let a proper text be read,
And touch it aff wi' vigour,
How graceless Ham[2] leugh at his dad,
Which made Canaan a Niger;
Or Phineas[3] drove the murdering blade,
Wi' wh-re-abhoring rigour;
Or Zipporah[4], the scaulding jade,
Was like a bluidy tiger
I' the Inn that day.
And touch it aff wi' vigour,
How graceless Ham[2] leugh at his dad,
Which made Canaan a Niger;
Or Phineas[3] drove the murdering blade,
Wi' wh-re-abhoring rigour;
Or Zipporah[4], the scaulding jade,
Was like a bluidy tiger
I' the Inn that day.
There, try his mettle on the Creed,
And bind him down wi' caution,
And bind him down wi' caution,
That stipend is a carnal weed
He taks but for the fashion;
And gie him o'er the flock to fea
And punish each transgression:
Especial rams that cross the breed,
Gie them sufficient threshin,
Spare them nae day.
He taks but for the fashion;
And gie him o'er the flock to fea
And punish each transgression:
Especial rams that cross the breed,
Gie them sufficient threshin,
Spare them nae day.
Now auld K——— cock thy tail,
And toss thy horns fu' canty:
Nae mair thou'lt rout out-owre the dale,
Because thy pasture's scanty;
For lapfa's large o' gospel-kail
Shall fill thy crib in plenty,
And runts o' grace, the pick and wale
No gi'en by way o' dainty,
But ilka day.
And toss thy horns fu' canty:
Nae mair thou'lt rout out-owre the dale,
Because thy pasture's scanty;
For lapfa's large o' gospel-kail
Shall fill thy crib in plenty,
And runts o' grace, the pick and wale
No gi'en by way o' dainty,
But ilka day.
Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep,
To think upon our Zion;
And hang our fiddles up to dreep,
Like baby-clouts a-drying:
Come screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep
And o'er the thairms be trying;
Oh rare! to see our elbucks wheep,
And a' like lamb-tails flyin
Fu' fast this day!
To think upon our Zion;
And hang our fiddles up to dreep,
Like baby-clouts a-drying:
Come screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep
And o'er the thairms be trying;
Oh rare! to see our elbucks wheep,
And a' like lamb-tails flyin
Fu' fast this day!
Lang Patronage, wi' rod o' airn,
Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin,
As lately F-nw-ck, sair forfairn,
Has proven to its ruin:
Our Patron, honest man! G———,
He saw mischief was brewin,
And like a godly elect bairn,
He's wal'd us out a true ane,
And sound this day.
Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin,
As lately F-nw-ck, sair forfairn,
Has proven to its ruin:
Our Patron, honest man! G———,
He saw mischief was brewin,
And like a godly elect bairn,
He's wal'd us out a true ane,
And sound this day.
Now R——— harangue nae mair,
But steek your gab for ever;
Or try the wicked town o' A—,
For there they'll think you clever;
Or, nae reflection on your lear,
Ye nay commence a Shaver;
Or to the N-th-rt-n repair,
And turn a carpet-weaver
Aff-hand this day.
But steek your gab for ever;
Or try the wicked town o' A—,
For there they'll think you clever;
Or, nae reflection on your lear,
Ye nay commence a Shaver;
Or to the N-th-rt-n repair,
And turn a carpet-weaver
Aff-hand this day.
M——— and you were just a match,
We never had sic twa drones;
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,
Just like a winkin baudrons;
And aye he catch'd the tither wretch,
To fry them in his caudrons;
But now his Honour maun detach,
Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons,
Fast, fast this day.
We never had sic twa drones;
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,
Just like a winkin baudrons;
And aye he catch'd the tither wretch,
To fry them in his caudrons;
But now his Honour maun detach,
Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons,
Fast, fast this day.
See, see, auld Orthodoxy's fues,
She's swingin through the city!
Hark how the nine-tailed cat she plays!
I vow it's unco pretty.
There Learning, wi' his Greekish face,
Grunts out some Latin ditty;
And Common-Sense is gaun, she says,
To make to Jamie Beatie
Her plaint this day.
She's swingin through the city!
Hark how the nine-tailed cat she plays!
I vow it's unco pretty.
There Learning, wi' his Greekish face,
Grunts out some Latin ditty;
And Common-Sense is gaun, she says,
To make to Jamie Beatie
Her plaint this day.
But there's Morality himsel,
Embracing a' opinions;
Hear how he gies the tither yell,
Between his twa companions:
See, how she peels the skin, and fell,
As an were peclin onions!
Now there they're packed aff' to h—ll,
And banish'd our dominions,
Henceforth this day.
Embracing a' opinions;
Hear how he gies the tither yell,
Between his twa companions:
See, how she peels the skin, and fell,
As an were peclin onions!
Now there they're packed aff' to h—ll,
And banish'd our dominions,
Henceforth this day.
O happy day! rejoice, rejoice,
Come bouse about the porterː
Morality's demure decoys
Shall here nae mair find quarter:
M'———, R———, are the boys
That Heresy can torture;
They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse,
And cow her measure shorter
By the head some day.
Come bouse about the porterː
Morality's demure decoys
Shall here nae mair find quarter:
M'———, R———, are the boys
That Heresy can torture;
They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse,
And cow her measure shorter
By the head some day.
Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
And here's for a conclusion,
To ev'ry New-light[5] mother's son,
From this time forth confusion!
If mair they deave us wi' their din,
Or patronage intrusion,
We'll light a spunk, and, every skin,
We'll rin them aff in fushion,
Like oil, some day.
And here's for a conclusion,
To ev'ry New-light[5] mother's son,
From this time forth confusion!
If mair they deave us wi' their din,
Or patronage intrusion,
We'll light a spunk, and, every skin,
We'll rin them aff in fushion,
Like oil, some day.
- ↑ Alluding to a scoffing Ballad which was made on the admission of the late Reverend and worthy Mr. L——— to the Laigh Kirk.
- ↑ Genesis, ch. ix. ver. 22.
- ↑ Numbers, ch. xxv. ver. 2.
- ↑ Exodus, ch. iv. ver. 25.
- ↑ New-light is a cant phrase for certain religious opinions.