A Ballad

Robert Burns (1759–1796) · 1786–1796

anapaestic tetrameter · 90 lines · from Poems and Songs

Orthodox! orthodox, who believe in John Knox,Let me sound an alarm to your conscience:A heretic blast has been blown in the West,“That what is no sense must be nonsense,”Orthodox! That what is no sense must be nonsense.

Doctor Mac! Doctor Mac, you should streek on a rack,To strike evil-doers wi’ terror:To join Faith and Sense, upon any pretence,Was heretic, damnable error,Doctor Mac! ’Twas heretic, damnable error.

Town of Ayr! town of Ayr, it was mad, I declare,To meddle wi’ mischief a-brewing,Provost John is still deaf to the Church’s relief,And Orator Bob is its ruin,Town of Ayr! Yes, Orator Bob is its ruin.

D’rymple mild! D’rymple mild, tho’ your heart’s like a child,And your life like the new-driven snaw,Yet that winna save you, auld Satan must have you,For preaching that three’s ane an’ twa,D’rymple mild! For preaching that three’s ane an’ twa.

Rumble John! rumble John, mount the steps with a groan,Cry the book is with heresy cramm’d;Then out wi’ your ladle, deal brimstone like aidle,And roar ev’ry note of the damn’d.Rumble John! And roar ev’ry note of the damn’d.

Simper James! simper James, leave your fair Killie dames,There’s a holier chase in your view:I’ll lay on your head, that the pack you’ll soon lead,For puppies like you there’s but few,Simper James! For puppies like you there’s but few.

Singet Sawnie! singet Sawnie, are ye huirdin the penny,Unconscious what evils await?With a jump, yell, and howl, alarm ev’ry soul,For the foul thief is just at your gate.Singet Sawnie! For the foul thief is just at your gate.

Poet Willie! poet Willie, gie the Doctor a volley,Wi’ your “Liberty’s Chain” and your wit;O’er Pegasus’ side ye ne’er laid a stride,Ye but smelt, man, the place where he sh—t.Poet Willie! Ye but smelt man, the place where he sh—t.

Barr Steenie! Barr Steenie, what mean ye, what mean ye?If ye meddle nae mair wi’ the matter,Ye may hae some pretence to havins and sense,Wi’ people that ken ye nae better,Barr Steenie! Wi’people that ken ye nae better.

Jamie Goose! Jamie Goose, ye made but toom roose,In hunting the wicked Lieutenant;But the Doctor’s your mark, for the Lord’s holy ark,He has cooper’d an’ ca’d a wrang pin in’t,Jamie Goose! He has cooper’d an’ ca’d a wrang pin in’t.

Davie Bluster! Davie Bluster, for a saint ye do muster,The corps is no nice o’ recruits;

Yet to worth let’s be just, royal blood ye might boast,If the Ass were the king o’ the brutes,Davie Bluster! If the Ass were the king o’ the brutes.

Irvine Side! Irvine Side, wi’ your turkey-cock prideOf manhood but sma’ is your share:Ye’ve the figure, ’tis true, ev’n your foes will allow,And your friends they dare grant you nae mair,Irvine Side! And your friends they dare grant you nae mair.

Muirland Jock! muirland Jock, when the Lord makes a rock,To crush common-sense for her sins;If ill-manners were wit, there’s no mortal so fitTo confound the poor Doctor at ance,Muirland Jock! To confound the poor Doctor at ance.

Andro Gowk! Andro Gowk, ye may slander the Book,An’ the Book nought the waur, let me tell ye;Tho’ ye’re rich, an’ look big, yet, lay by hat an’ wig,An’ ye’ll hae a calf’s—had o’ sma’ value,Andro Gowk! Ye’ll hae a calf’s head o’ sma value.

Daddy Auld! daddy Auld, there’a a tod in the fauld,A tod meikle waur than the clerk;Tho’ ye do little skaith, ye’ll be in at the death,For gif ye canna bite, ye may bark,Daddy Auld! Gif ye canna bite, ye may bark.

Holy Will! holy Will, there was wit in your skull,When ye pilfer’d the alms o’ the poor;The timmer is scant when ye’re taen for a saunt,Wha should swing in a rape for an hour,Holy Will! Ye should swing in a rape for an hour.

Calvin’s sons! Calvin’s sons, seize your spiritual guns,Ammunition you never can need;

Your hearts are the stuff will be powder enough,And your skulls are a storehouse o’ lead,Calvin’s sons! Your skulls are a storehouse o’ lead.

Poet Burns! poet Burns, wi’ your priest-skelpin turns,Why desert ye your auld native shire?Your muse is a gipsy, yet were she e’en tipsy,She could ca’us nae waur than we are,Poet Burns! She could ca’us nae waur than we are.

Words in this poem 20
conscience n.
Knowledge of one's own thoughts or actions; consciousness. [F. conscience, fr. L. conscientia, fr. consciens, p.pr. of conscire to know, to be conscious; con- + scire to know. See Science.]
heretic n.
One who holds to a heresy; one who believes some doctrine contrary to the established faith or prevailing religion. [L. haereticus, Gr. hérétique. See Heresy.]
streek v. t.
To stretch; also, to lay out, as a dead body. See Streak. [Obs.
pretence n.
The act of laying claim; the claim laid; assumption; pretension. [LL. praetensus, for L. praetentus, p. p. of praetendere. See Pretend, and cf. Tension.]
damnable a.
Liable to damnation; deserving, or for which one deserves, to be damned; of a damning nature. [L. damnabilis, fr. damnare: cf. F. damnable. See Damn.]
meddle v. i.
To mix; to mingle. [OE. medlen to mix, OF. medler, mesler, F. mêler, LL. misculare, a dim. fr. L. miscere to mix. Mix, and cf. Medley, Mellay.]
auld a.
Old; as, Auld Reekie (old smoky), i. e., Edinburgh. [See Old.]
brimstone n.
Sulphur; See Sulphur. [OE. brimston, bremston, bernston, brenston; cf. Icel. brennistein. See Burn, v. t., and Stone.]
damn v. t.
To condemn; to declare guilty; to doom; to adjudge to punishment; to sentence; to censhure. [OE. damnen dap), OF. damner, dampner, F. damner, fr. L. damnare, damnatum, to condemn, fr. damnum damage, a fine, penalty. Cf. Condemn, Damage.]
simper v. i.
To smile in a silly, affected, or conceited manner. [Cf. Norw. semper fine, smart, dial. Dan. semper, simper, affected, coy, prudish, OSw. semper one who affectedly refrains from eating, Sw. sipp finical, prim, LG]
await v. t.
To watch for; to look out for. [OF. awaitier, agaitier; (L. ad) + waitier, gaitier to watch, F. guetter. See Wait.]
stride v. t.
To walk with long steps, especially in a measured or pompous manner. [AS. stridan to stride, to strive; akin to LG. striden, OFries. strida to strive, D. strijden to strive, to contend, G. streiten, OHG. stritan; of uncertain orig]
toom a.
Empty. [Obs. or Prov.Eng. & Scot.] Wyclif. [OE. tom, fr. Icel. tomr; akin to Dan. & Sw. tom, As. tome, adv. Cf. Teem to pour.]
muster n.
Something shown for imitation; a pattern. [OE. moustre, OF. mostre, moustre, F. montre, LL. monstra. See Muster, v. t.]
corps n.
The human body, whether living or dead. See Corpse, 1. [F., fr. L. corpus body. See Corpse.]
gowk v. t.
To make a, booby of one); to stupefy. B. Jonson. [See Gawk.]
daddy n.
Diminutive of Dad.
fauld n.
The arch over the dam of a blast furnace; the tymp arch.
clerk n.
A clergyman or ecclesiastic. [Either OF. clerc, fr. L. clericus a priest, or AS. clerc, cleric, clerk, priest, fr. L. clericus, fr. Gr. Clergy.]
canna n.
A measure of length in Italy, varying from six to seven feet. [It.]

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

A Ballad is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, Project Gutenberg ebook #1279; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Robert Burns, A Ballad, in Poems and Songs (1786–1796), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1279, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/burns-poems/a-ballad.html, id L03187.

Form and metre

A Ballad is 90 lines in 20 stanzas. The metre is anapaestic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 79%). 87% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.6 syllables. 18 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending.

See other poems in anapaestic tetrameter.

Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.

Rhyme words, stanza by stanza

The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.

  1. 1 ---AA knox · conscience · west · nonsenseA · nonsenseA
  2. 2 -A-AA rack · terrorA · pretence · errorA · errorA
  3. 3 ---AA declare · brewing · relief · ruinA · ruinA
  4. 4 ---AA child · snaw · you · twaA · twaA
  5. 5 -A-AA groan · cramm'dA · aidle · damn'dA · damn'dA
  6. 6 -A-AA dames · viewA · lead · fewA · fewA
  7. 7 -A-AA penny · awaitA · soul · gateA · gateA
  8. 8 ---AA volley · wit · stride · tA · tA
  9. 9 ---AA ye · matter · sense · betterA · betterA
  10. 10 -A-AA roose · lieutenantA · ark · in'tA · in'tA
  11. 12 -AA boast · brutesA · brutesA
  12. 13 -A-AA pride · shareA · allow · mairA · mairA
  13. 14 ---AA rock · sins · fit · anceA · anceA
  14. 15 ---AA book · ye · wig · valueA · valueA
  15. 16 ---AA fauld · clerk · death · barkA · barkA
  16. 17 ---AA skull · poor · saunt · hourA · hourA
  17. 19 -AA enough · leadA · leadA
  18. 20 ---AA turns · shire · tipsy · areA · areA
Scansion, line by line

Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against anapaestic tetrameter. How this is done.

LineSyl.Stress
Orthodox! orthodox, who believe in John Knox,12/˘·/˘··˘/···
Let me sound an alarm to your conscience:10····˘/··/˘
A heretic blast has been blown in the West,10·/˘·······
“That what is no sense must be nonsense,”9·······/˘
Orthodox! That what is no sense must be nonsense.12/˘········/˘
Doctor Mac! Doctor Mac, you should streek on a rack,12/˘·/˘·······
To strike evil-doers wi’ terror:9··/˘/˘·/˘
To join Faith and Sense, upon any pretence,11·······/˘··
Was heretic, damnable error,9·/˘˘/˘˘/˘
Doctor Mac! ’Twas heretic, damnable error.11/˘··/˘/˘˘/˘
Town of Ayr! town of Ayr, it was mad, I declare,12··········˘/
To meddle wi’ mischief a-brewing,9·/˘·/˘·/˘
Provost John is still deaf to the Church’s relief,12/˘······/˘˘/
And Orator Bob is its ruin,9·/˘˘···/˘
Town of Ayr! Yes, Orator Bob is its ruin.10····/˘···/
D’rymple mild! D’rymple mild, tho’ your heart’s like a child,12············
And your life like the new-driven snaw,8······/·
Yet that winna save you, auld Satan must have you,12·······/˘···
For preaching that three’s ane an’ twa,8·/˘·····
D’rymple mild! For preaching that three’s ane an’ twa.11····/˘·····
Rumble John! rumble John, mount the steps with a groan,12/˘·/˘·······
Cry the book is with heresy cramm’d;8·····/˘·
Then out wi’ your ladle, deal brimstone like aidle,12····/˘·/˘···
And roar ev’ry note of the damn’d.8········
Rumble John! And roar ev’ry note of the damn’d.11/˘·········
Simper James! simper James, leave your fair Killie dames,12/˘·/˘·······
There’s a holier chase in your view:8··/˘····
I’ll lay on your head, that the pack you’ll soon lead,11···········
For puppies like you there’s but few,8·/˘·····
Simper James! For puppies like you there’s but few.11/˘··/˘·····
Singet Sawnie! singet Sawnie, are ye huirdin the penny,15·············/˘
Unconscious what evils await?8·/˘·/˘˘/
With a jump, yell, and howl, alarm ev’ry soul,11······˘/···
For the foul thief is just at your gate.9·········
Singet Sawnie! For the foul thief is just at your gate.13·············
Poet Willie! poet Willie, gie the Doctor a volley,15/˘/˘/˘/˘··/˘·/˘
Wi’ your “Liberty’s Chain” and your wit;8··/˘····
O’er Pegasus’ side ye ne’er laid a stride,9·/˘······
Ye but smelt, man, the place where he sh—t.11········//·
Poet Willie! Ye but smelt man, the place where he sh—t.15/˘/˘········//·
Barr Steenie! Barr Steenie, what mean ye, what mean ye?12············
If ye meddle nae mair wi’ the matter,10··/˘····/˘
Ye may hae some pretence to havins and sense,11·······/˘··
Wi’ people that ken ye nae better,9·/˘····/˘
Barr Steenie! Wi’people that ken ye nae better.12··········/˘
Jamie Goose! Jamie Goose, ye made but toom roose,11/˘·/˘······
In hunting the wicked Lieutenant;9·/˘·/˘˘/˘
But the Doctor’s your mark, for the Lord’s holy ark,12··/˘·····/˘·
He has cooper’d an’ ca’d a wrang pin in’t,10··········
Jamie Goose! He has cooper’d an’ ca’d a wrang pin in’t.13/˘···········
Davie Bluster! Davie Bluster, for a saint ye do muster,15/˘/˘/˘/˘·····/˘
The corps is no nice o’ recruits;8······˘/
Yet to worth let’s be just, royal blood ye might boast,12······/˘····
If the Ass were the king o’ the brutes,9·········
Davie Bluster! If the Ass were the king o’ the brutes.13/˘/˘·········
Irvine Side! Irvine Side, wi’ your turkey-cock pride12/˘·/˘···/˘··
Of manhood but sma’ is your share:8·/······
Ye’ve the figure, ’tis true, ev’n your foes will allow,12··/˘······˘/
And your friends they dare grant you nae mair,9·········
Irvine Side! And your friends they dare grant you nae mair.12/˘··········
Muirland Jock! muirland Jock, when the Lord makes a rock,12············
To crush common-sense for her sins;8··/˘····
If ill-manners were wit, there’s no mortal so fit12··/˘····/˘··
To confound the poor Doctor at ance,9·/···/˘··
Muirland Jock! To confound the poor Doctor at ance.12····/···/˘··
Andro Gowk! Andro Gowk, ye may slander the Book,12········/˘··
An’ the Book nought the waur, let me tell ye;10··········
Tho’ ye’re rich, an’ look big, yet, lay by hat an’ wig,12············
An’ ye’ll hae a calf’s—had o’ sma’ value,10········/˘
Andro Gowk! Ye’ll hae a calf’s head o’ sma value.12··········/˘
Daddy Auld! daddy Auld, there’a a tod in the fauld,13/˘·/˘········
A tod meikle waur than the clerk;8··/˘····
Tho’ ye do little skaith, ye’ll be in at the death,12···/˘·······
For gif ye canna bite, ye may bark,9···/˘····
Daddy Auld! Gif ye canna bite, ye may bark.11/˘···/˘····
Holy Will! holy Will, there was wit in your skull,12/˘·/˘·······
When ye pilfer’d the alms o’ the poor;9··/˘·····
The timmer is scant when ye’re taen for a saunt,11·/˘········
Wha should swing in a rape for an hour,9········/
Holy Will! Ye should swing in a rape for an hour.12/˘·········/
Calvin’s sons! Calvin’s sons, seize your spiritual guns,11/˘·/˘···/˘·
Ammunition you never can need;8·˘/˘·/··
Your hearts are the stuff will be powder enough,10·······/˘/
And your skulls are a storehouse o’ lead,9·····/···
Calvin’s sons! Your skulls are a storehouse o’ lead.11/˘·····/···
Poet Burns! poet Burns, wi’ your priest-skelpin turns,12/˘·/˘·······
Why desert ye your auld native shire?9·˘/···/˘·
Your muse is a gipsy, yet were she e’en tipsy,12····/˘····/˘
She could ca’us nae waur than we are,8········
Poet Burns! She could ca’us nae waur than we are.11/˘·········
Notes from the edition 16

Notes from The Complete Works of Robert Burns (Project Gutenberg #1279).

  1. Stanza 2, line 5 The Duke of Queensberry.
  2. Stanza 3, line 2 Sir James Johnston of Westerhall.
  3. Stanza 3, line 3 John Ballantine,—R.B.
  4. Stanza 3, line 4 Robert Aiken.—R.B.
  5. Stanza 4, line 5 Dr. Dalrymple, Ayr.—R.B.
  6. Stanza 6, line 5 James Mackinlay, Kilmarnock.—R.B.
  7. Stanza 7, line 5 Alexander Moodie of Riccarton.—R.B.
  8. Stanza 8, line 5 William Peebles, in Newton-upon-Ayr, a poetaster, who, among many other things, published an ode on the “Centenary of the Revolution,” in which was the line: “And bound in Liberty’s endering chain.”—R.B.
  9. Stanza 9, line 5 Stephen Young of Barr.—R.B.
  10. Stanza 10, line 5 James Young, in New Cumnock, who had lately been foiled in an ecclesiastical prosecution against a Lieutenant Mitchel—R.B.
  11. Stanza 12, line 3 David Grant, Ochiltree.—R.B.
  12. Stanza 13, line 5 George Smith, Galston.—R.B.
  13. Stanza 14, line 5 John Shepherd Muirkirk.—R.B.
  14. Stanza 15, line 5 Dr. Andrew Mitchel, Monkton.—R.B.
  15. Stanza 16, line 5 William Auld, Mauchline; for the clerk, see “Holy Willie’s” prayer.—R.B.
  16. Stanza 17, line 5 Vide the “Prayer” of this saint.—R.B.

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