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A Ballad [While prose work and rhymes]


While Prose-work and rhymes Are hunted for crimes, And things are - the devil knows how; Aware o' my rhymes, In these kittle times, The subject I chuse is a mow. Some cry, Constitution! Some cry, Revolution! And Politicks kick up a rowe; But Prince and Republic, Agree on the Subject, No treason is in a good mow. Th' Episcopal lawn, And Presbyter band, Hae lang been to ither a cowe; But still the proud Prelate, And Presbyter zealot Agree in an orthodox mow. Poor Justice, 'tis hinted Ill natur'dly squinted, The Process - but mum - we'll allow Poor Justice has ever For Cunt had a favor, While Justice could tak a gude mow. Now fill to the brim To her, and to him, Wha willingly do what they dow; And ne'er a poor wench Want a friend at a pinch, Whase failing is only a mow.

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Alex Norton

About this work

This is a song by Robert Burns. It is read here by Alex Norton.

Themes for this song

politics poetry religion sex

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