The Beauties of Burn's Poems/Address to the Unco Gude

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

For other versions of this work, see Address to the Unco Guid, or The Rigidly Righteous.

Address to the Unco Gude,

or,

THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.

 

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My son, these Maxims mak a rule,
And lump them a' thegither;
The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
The Rigid Wise anither:
The cleanest corn that e'er was dight,
May hae some piles o' caff in;
Sae ne'er a follow-creature slight
For random fits o' daffin.
Solomon—Eccls. vii. 16.

 

O Ye wha are sae gude yoursel,
 Sae pious, and sae holy,
You've nought to do but mark and tell
 Your neighbour's faults and folly!
Whause life is like a weel-gaun mill,
 Supply'd wi' store o' water,
The heapet happer's ebbing still,
 And still the clap plays clatter.

Hear me, ye venerable Core,
 As Counsel for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door,
 For glaiket Folly's portals:
I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,
 Wad here propone defences,
Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes,
 Their failings and mischances.

Ye see your state wi' their's compar'd,
 And shudder at the niffer!
But cast a moment's fair regard,
 What ma's the mighty differ:
Discount what scant occasion gave
 That purity ye pride in,
And (what aft mair than a' the lave)
 Your better art o' hiding.

Think, when your castigated pulse
 Gies now and then a wallop:
What ragings must his veins convulse,
 That still eternal gallop!
Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail,
 Right on ye scud your sea-way;
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,
 It maks an unco lee-way.

See social life and glee sit down,
 A' joyous and unthinking,
Till, quite transmugrify'd, they're grown
 Debautchery and Drinking:
O wad they stay to calculate
 Th' eternal consequences!
Or your more dreadful h—ll to state,
 Damnation of expences!

Ye high exalted virtuous Dames,
 Tied up in godly laces,
Before ye gie poor Frailty names,
 Suppose a change of cases:
And dear lov'd lad, convenience snug
 A treacherous inclination———
But let me whisper if your lug,
 Ye're ablins nae temptation.

Then gently scan your brother Man,
 Still gentler sister Woman:
Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang,
 To step aside is human:
One point must still be greatly dark,
 The moving Why they do it;
And just as lamely can you mark
 How far, perhaps, they rue it.

Wha made the heart, 'tis He alone
 Decidedly can try us,
He knows each chord, its various tone,
 Each spring its various bias:
Then at the balance let's be mute,
 We never can adjust it;
What's done we partly may compute,
 But ken na what's resisted.

———o———