RIGHT, sir! your text I'll prove it true, <br />Tho' heretics may laugh; <br />For instance, there's yourself just now, <br />God knows, an unco calf. <br /> <br /> <br />And should some patron be so kind, <br />As bless you wi' a kirk, <br />I doubt na, sir but then we'll find, <br />Ye're still as great a stirk. <br /> <br /> <br />But, if the lover's raptur'd hour, <br />Shall ever be your lot, <br />Forbid it, ev'ry heavenly Power, <br />You e'er should be a stot! <br /> <br /> <br />Tho' when some kind connubial dear <br />Your but-and-ben adorns, <br />The like has been that you may wear <br />A noble head of horns. <br /> <br /> <br />And, in your lug, most reverend James, <br />To hear you roar and rowt, <br />Few men o' sense will doubt your claims <br />To rank amang the nowt. <br /> <br /> <br />And when ye're number'd wi' the dead, <br />Below a grassy hillock, <br />With justice they may mark your head— <br />"Here lies a famous bullock!"<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-calf-2/
