Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 129. The Calf |
| | | | | To the Rev. JAMES STEVEN, on his text, MALACHI, ch. iv. vers. 2. “And ye shall go forth, and grow up, as Calves of the stall.” |
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| RIGHT, sir! your text I’ll prove it true, | |
| Tho’ heretics may laugh; | |
| For instance, there’s yourself just now, | |
| God knows, an unco calf. | |
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| And should some patron be so kind, | 5 |
| As bless you wi’ a kirk, | |
| I doubt na, sir but then we’ll find, | |
| Ye’re still as great a stirk. | |
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| But, if the lover’s raptur’d hour, | |
| Shall ever be your lot, | 10 |
| Forbid it, ev’ry heavenly Power, | |
| You e’er should be a stot! | |
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| Tho’ when some kind connubial dear | |
| Your but-and-ben adorns, | |
| The like has been that you may wear | 15 |
| A noble head of horns. | |
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| And, in your lug, most reverend James, | |
| To hear you roar and rowt, | |
| Few men o’ sense will doubt your claims | |
| To rank amang the nowt. | 20 |
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| And when ye’re number’d wi’ the dead, | |
| Below a grassy hillock, | |
| With justice they may mark your head— | |
| “Here lies a famous bullock!” | |
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