Classic Poem

Tune, The Dragon of Wantley

Dire was the hate at old Harlaw
That Scot to Scot did carry;
And dire the discord Langside saw,
For beauteous, hapless Mary:
But Scot with Scot ne'er met so hot,
Or were more in fury seen, Sir,
Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job —
Who should be the Faculty's Dean, Sir. —

This Hal for genius, wit and lore
Among the first was number'd;
But pious Bob, 'mid Learning's store,
Commandment the tenth remember'd.
Yet simple Bob the victory got,
And wan his heart's desire;
Which shews that Heaven can boil the pot
Though the devil piss in the fire. —

Squire Hal besides had in this case
Pretensions rather brassy,
For talents to deserve a place
Are qualifications saucy;
So their Worships of the Faculty,
Quite sick of Merit's rudeness,
Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see,
To their gratis grace and goodness. —

As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight
Of a son of Circumcision,
So may be, on this Pisgah height,
Bob's purblind, mental vision:
Nay, Bobby's mouth may be opened yet
Till for eloquence you hail him,
And swear he has the angel met
That met the ass of Balaam. —

In your heretic sins may ye live and die,
Ye heretic Eight and thirty!
But accept, ye Sublime Majority,
My congratulations hearty. —
With your Honors and a certain King
In your servants this is striking —
The more incapacity they bring,
The more they're to your liking. —