Whom vice, as usual, has turned o'er to ruin.
Oh, but for kind, though ill-requited friends,
I had been driven forth like you, forlorn,
The most detested, worthless wretch among you!
O injured God! Thy goodness has endowed me
With talents passing most of my compeers,
Which I in just proportion have abused,
As far surpassing other common villains
As thou in natural parts hadst given me more.
THE HERON ELECTION BALLADS.*
WHOM Will you send to London town,
To Parliament, and a' that?
Or wha in a' the country round
The best deserves to fa' that?
For a' that, and a' that,
Through Galloway and a' that;
Where is the laird or belted knight
That best deserves to fa' that?
Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett,
And wha is 't never saw that?
Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree met,
And has a doubt of a' that?
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
The independent patriot,
The honest man, and a' that.
The Heron Ballads were written by Burns to help Patrick Heron, of Kerroughtree, in two elections. They were scattered as broadsheets.
Though wit and worth in either sex,
St. Mary's Isle can shaw that;
Wi' dukes and lords let Selkirk mix,
And weel does Selkirk fa' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
The independent commoner
Shall be the man for a' that.
But why should we to nobles jouk?
And it's against the law that;
For why, a lord may be a gouk
Wi' ribbon, star, and a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
A lord may be a lousy loun
Wi' ribbon, star, and a' that.
A beardless boy comes o'er the hills
Wi' uncle's purse and a' that;
But we'll hae ane frae 'mang oursels,
A man we ken and a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
For we're not to be bought and sold
Like naigs, and nowt, and a' that.
Then let us drink the Stewartry,
Kerroughtree's laird, and a' that,
Our representative to be,
For weel he's worthy a' that,
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
A House of Commons such as he,
They would be blest that saw that.
Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright,
For there will be bickerin' there;
For Murray's light-horse are to muster,
An' oh, how the heroes will swear!
An' there will be Murray commander,
An' Gordon the battle to win;
Like brothers they'll stand by each other,
Sae knit in alliance and kin.
An' there will be black-nebbit Johnnie,*
The tongue o' the trump to them a';
An' he get na hell for his haddin',
The Deil gets na justice ava';
An' there will be Kempleton's birkie,
A boy na sae black at the bane,
But, as for his fine nabob fortune,
We'll e'en let the subject alane.
An' there will be Wigton's new sheriff,
Dame Justice fu' brawlie has sped,
She's gotten the heart of a Busby,
But, Lord, what's become o' the head?
An' there will be Cardoness, Esquire,t
Sae mighty in Cardoness' eyes;
A wight that will weather damnation—
The Devil the prey will despise.
An' there will be Douglases doughty,
New christening towns far and near;
Abjuring their democrat doings,
An' there will be Kenmure sae generous!
Whose honour is proof to the storm;
To save them from stark reprobation,
He lent them his name to the firm.
But we winna mention Redcastle,
The body, e'en let him escape!
He'd venture the gallows for siller,
An' 'twere na the cost o' the rape.
An' where is our King's lord lieutenant,
Sae famed for his gratefu' return?
The billie is gettin' his questions,
To say in St. Stephen's the morn.
An' there will be lads o' the gospel, Muirhead wha's as gude as he's true; An' there will be Buittle's apostle, t
Wha's mair o' the black than the blue; An' there will be folk frae St. Mary's, A house o' great merit and note, The Deil ane but honours them highly,— The Deil ane will gie them his vote!
An' there will be wealthy young Richard ‡
Dame Fortune should hing by the neck;
For prodigal, thriftless, bestowing,
His merit had won him respect:
An' there will be rich brother nabobs,
Though nabobs, yet men of the first,
An' there will be Collieston's whiskers,
An' Quentin, o' lads not the warst.
Rev. G. Maxwell. R. Oswald, of Auchincruive.
An' there will be stamp-office Johnnie,*
Tak tent how ye purchase a dram;
An' there will be gay Cassencarrie,
An' there will be gleg Colonel Tam; t
An' there will be trusty Kerroughtree,
Whase honour was ever his law,
If the virtues were packed in a parcel,
His worth might be sample for a'.
An' can we forget the auld Major,+
Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys,
Our flattery we'll keep for some ither,
Him only it's justice to praise.
An' there will be maiden Kilkerran,§
And also Barskimming's guid knight,
An' there will be roarin' Birtwhistle,
Wha, luckily, roars in the right.
An' there, frae the Niddesdale border,
Will mingle the Maxwells in droves;
Teugh Johnnie, staunch Geordie, an' Walie
That griens for the fishes an' loaves;
An' there will be Logan Mac Douall,
Sculdudd'ry an' he will be there,
An' also the wild Scot o' Galloway,
Sodgerin', gunpowder Blair.
Then hey the chaste int'rest o' Broughton,
An' hey for the blessings 'twill bring!
It may send Balmaghie to the Commons,
In Sodom 'twould make him a king;
• John Syme.
Major Heron.
Sir William Miller.
+ Col. Goldie.
§ Sir Adam Fergusson.
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