35 An’ less, will gang about it go
Than did ae day. one
Far be’t frae me that I aspire from
To blame your Legislation,
Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire
40 To rule this mighty nation:
But faith! I muckle doubt, my SIRE, much
Ye’ve trusted ’Ministration
To chaps wha in a barn or byre who
Wad better fill’d their station,
45 Than courts yon day.
And now Ye’ve gien auld Britain peace, given old
Her broken shins to plaister; plaster
Your sair taxation does her fleece, sore
Till she has scarce a tester: sixpence
50 For me, thank God, my life’s a lease, a tenant farm lease
Nae bargain wearin faster, no
Or faith! I fear, that, wi’ the geese,
I shortly boost to pasture must
I’ the craft some day.
55 I’m no mistrusting Willie Pit,
When taxes he enlarges,
(An’ Will’s a true guid fallow’s get, good, breed
A Name not Envy spairges), bespatters
That he intends to pay your debt,
60 An’ lessen a’ your charges;
But, God sake! let nae saving fit no
Abridge your bonie Barges handsome
An’ Boats this day.
Adieu, my LIEGE! may Freedom geck sport
65 Beneath your high protection;
An’ may Ye rax Corruption’s neck,
And gie her for dissection! give
But since I’m here I’ll no neglect,
In loyal, true affection,
70 To pay your QUEEN, wi’ due respect,
My fealty an’ subjection
This great Birth-day.
Hail, Majesty most Excellent!
While Nobles strive to please Ye,
75 Will Ye accept a Compliment,
A simple Bardie gies Ye? gives
Thae bonie Bairntime, Heav’n has lent, that pretty brood
Still higher may they heeze Ye hoist
In bliss, till Fate some day is sent,
80 For ever to release Ye
Frae Care that day. from
For you, young Potentate o’ Wales,
I tell your Highness fairly,
Down Pleasure’s stream, wi’ swelling sails,
85I’m tauld ye’re driving rarely; told, unusually well
But some day ye may gnaw your nails,
An’ curse your folly sairly, sorely
That e’er ye brak Diana’s pales, break
Or rattl’d dice wi’ Charlie
90 By night or day.
Yet aft a ragged Cowte’s been known, colt
To mak a noble Aiver; make, old horse
So, ye may doucely fill a Throne, soberly
For a’ their clish-ma-claver: gossip
95 There, Him at Agincourt wha shone, who
Few better were or braver;
And yet, wi’ funny, queer Sir John,1
He was an unco shaver a great madcap
For monie a day. many
100 For you, right rev’rend Osnaburg,
Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter, none, becomes
Altho’ a ribban at your lug ribbon, ear
Wad been a dress compleater: would
As ye disown yon paughty dog, proud
105 That bears the Keys of Peter,
Then swith! an’ get a wife to hug,
Or trowth, ye’ll stain the Mitre in truth
Some luckless day.
Young, royal TARRY-BREEKS, I learn,
110 Ye’ve lately come athwart her;
A glorious Galley, stem an’ stern
Weel rigg’d for Venus barter;2 well
But first hang out that she’ll discern
Your hymeneal Charter;
115 Then heave aboard your grapple-airn, grappling iron
An’, large upon her quarter,
Come full that day.
Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a’,
Ye royal Lasses dainty,
120 Heav’n mak you guid as weel as braw, good, well, fair
An’ gie you lads a-plenty: give
But sneer na British-boys awa! not, away
For Kings are unco scant ay, greatly scarce
An’ German-gentles are but sma’, small
125 They’re better just than want ay
On onie day. any
God bless you a’! consider now,
Ye’re unco muckle dautet; greatly fussed over
But ere the course o’ life be through,
130 It may be bitter sautet: salted
An’ I hae seen their coggie fou, have, plate full
That yet hae tarrow’t at it; shown reluctance
But or the day was done, I trow, believe
The laggen they hae clautet bottom, have scraped
135 Fu’ clean that day.
Byron must have read this with admiration; he himself never wrote anything funnier or, amidst the laughter, landed on the Hanoverians, he also so loathed, so many palpable hits. Describing it as a ‘dream’ allows Burns, as in the headquote, to claim its non-serious nature and intent. It also, of course, allows him direct, deadly access as ‘humble poet’ into the royal birthday levee.
George’s birthday on 4th June 1786 had been celebrated by the laureate, Thomas Warton with a Pindaric ode. Burns’s almost immediate response to this sycophantic work enabled him to insert the poem into the Kilmarnock edition. These were not the sentiments of a complicit ‘heaven taught ploughman’ and Mrs Dunlop was quick to warn him as to the commercial consequences of such satire. On 26th February 1787 she wrote to him urging that A Dream should be excluded from the second