The Beauties of Burn's Poems/The Calf

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

For other versions of this work, see The Calf (Burns).

THE CALF.

To the Rev. Mr.———,

On his Text, Malachi, ch. iv. ver. 2,

And they shall go forth, and grow up like Calves of the stall.

 

Right, Sir! your text I'll prove it true.
 Tho' Heretics may laugh;
For instance, there's yoursel just now,
 G— knows, an unco Calf.

And should some Patron be so kind,
 As bliss you wi' a Kirk,
I doubtna, Sir, but then we'll find
 Ye're still as great a Stirk.

But, if the Lover's raptur'd hour
 Shall ever be your lot,
Forbid it, ev'ry heavenly Power,
 You e'er should be a Stotǃ

Tho' when some kind connubial dear,
 Your but and ben adorns,
The like may be that you may wear
 A noble head of horns.

And, in your lug, most reverend James,
 To hear you roar and rowte,
Few men o' sense will doubt your claims
 To rank among the Nowte.

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead,
 Below a grassy hillock,
Wi' justice they may mark your head—
 "Here lies a famous Bullock!"

 

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