DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw, <br />That Scot to Scot did carry; <br />And dire the discord Langside saw <br />For beauteous, hapless Mary: <br />But Scot to Scot ne'er met so hot, <br />Or were more in fury seen, Sir, <br />Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job, <br />Who should be the Faculty's Dean, Sir. <br /> <br /> <br />This Hal for genius, wit and lore, <br />Among the first was number'd; <br />But pious Bob, 'mid learning's store, <br />Commandment the tenth remember'd: <br />Yet simple Bob the victory got, <br />And wan his heart's desire, <br />Which shews that heaven can boil the pot, <br />Tho' the devil piss in the fire. <br /> <br /> <br />Squire Hal, besides, had in this case <br />Pretensions rather brassy; <br />For talents, to deserve a place, <br />Are qualifications saucy. <br />So their worships of the Faculty, <br />Quite sick of merit's rudeness, <br />Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see, <br />To their gratis grace and goodness. <br /> <br /> <br />As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight <br />Of a son of Circumcision, <br />So may be, on this Pisgah height, <br />Bob's purblind mental vision— <br />Nay, Bobby's mouth may be opened yet, <br />Till for eloquence you hail him, <br />And swear that he has the angel met <br />That met the ass of Balaam. <br /> <br /> <br />In your heretic sins may you live and die, <br />Ye heretic Eight-and-Tairty! <br />But accept, ye sublime Majority, <br />My congratulations hearty. <br />With your honours, as with a certain king, <br />In your servants this is striking, <br />The more incapacity they bring, <br />The more they're to your liking.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dean-of-faculty-a-new-ballad/
