Thoughts, words, and deeds, the Statute blames with reason;But surely Dreams were ne’er indicted Treason.2
Guid-Mornin’ to our Majesty!May Heaven augment your blissesOn ev’ry new birth-day ye see,A humble poet wishes.My bardship here, at your LeveeOn sic a day as this is,Is sure an uncouth sight to see,Amang thae birth-day dressesSae fine this day.11
I see ye’re complimented thrang,By mony a lord an’ lady;“God save the King” ’s a cuckoo sangThat’s unco easy said aye:The poets, too, a venal gang,Wi’ rhymes weel-turn’d an’ ready,Wad gar you trow ye ne’er do wrang,But aye unerring steady,On sic a day.20
For me! before a monarch’s faceEv’n there I winna flatter;For neither pension, post, nor place,Am I your humble debtor:So, nae reflection on your Grace,Your Kingship to bespatter;There’s mony waur been o’ the race,And aiblins ane been betterThan you this day.29
’Tis very true, my sovereign King,My skill may weel be doubted;But facts are chiels that winna ding,An’ downa be disputed:Your royal nest, beneath your wing,Is e’en right reft and clouted,And now the third part o’ the string,An’ less, will gang aboot itThan did ae day.38
Far be’t frae me that I aspireTo blame your legislation,Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire,To rule this mighty nation:But faith! I muckle doubt, my sire,Ye’ve trusted ministrationTo chaps wha in barn or byreWad better fill’d their stationThan courts yon day.47
And now ye’ve gien auld Britain peace,Her broken shins to plaister,Your sair taxation does her fleece,Till she has scarce a tester:For me, thank God, my life’s a lease,Nae bargain wearin’ faster,Or, faith! I fear, that, wi’ the geese,I shortly boost to pastureI’ the craft some day.56
I’m no mistrusting Willie Pitt,When taxes he enlarges,(An’ Will’s a true guid fallow’s get,A name not envy spairges),That he intends to pay your debt,An’ lessen a’ your charges;But, God-sake! let nae saving fitAbridge your bonie bargesAn’boats this day.65
Adieu, my Liege; may freedom geckBeneath your high protection;An’ may ye rax Corruption’s neck,And gie her for dissection!But since I’m here, I’ll no neglect,In loyal, true affection,To pay your Queen, wi’ due respect,May fealty an’ subjectionThis great birth-day.74
Hail, Majesty most Excellent!While nobles strive to please ye,Will ye accept a compliment,A simple poet gies ye?Thae bonie bairntime, Heav’n has lent,Still higher may they heeze yeIn bliss, till fate some day is sentFor ever to release yeFrae care that day.83
For you, young Potentate o’Wales,I tell your highness fairly,Down Pleasure’s stream, wi’ swelling sails,I’m tauld ye’re driving rarely;But some day ye may gnaw your nails,An’ curse your folly sairly,That e’er ye brak Diana’s pales,Or rattl’d dice wi’ CharlieBy night or day.92
Yet aft a ragged cowt’s been known,To mak a noble aiver;So, ye may doucely fill the throne,For a’their clish-ma-claver:There, him at Agincourt wha shone,Few better were or braver:And yet, wi’ funny, queer Sir John,He was an unco shaverFor mony a day.101
For you, right rev’rend Osnaburg,Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter,Altho’ a ribbon at your lugWad been a dress completer:As ye disown yon paughty dog,That bears the keys of Peter,Then swith! an’ get a wife to hug,Or trowth, ye’ll stain the mitreSome luckless day!110
Young, royal Tarry-breeks, I learn,Ye’ve lately come athwart her—A glorious galley, stem and stern,Weel rigg’d for Venus’ barter;But first hang out, that she’ll discern,Your hymeneal charter;Then heave aboard your grapple airn,An’ large upon her quarter,Come full that day.119
Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a’,Ye royal lasses dainty,Heav’n mak you guid as well as braw,An’ gie you lads a-plenty!But sneer na British boys awa!For kings are unco scant aye,An’ German gentles are but sma’,They’re better just than want ayeOn ony day.128
Gad bless you a’! consider now,Ye’re unco muckle dautit;But ere the course o’ life be through,It may be bitter sautit:An’ I hae seen their coggie fou,That yet hae tarrow’t at it.But or the day was done, I trow,The laggen they hae clautitFu’ clean that day.137