Poet And Peer

They asked the Bard of Ayr to dine;

The banquet hall was fit and fine,

With gracing it a Lord;

The poet came; his face was grim

To find the place reserved for him

Was at the butler's board.



So when the gentry called him in,

He entered with a knavish grin

And sipped a glass of wine;

But when they asked would he recite

Something of late he'd chanced to write

He ettled to decline.



Then with a sly, sardonic look

He opened up a little book

Containing many a gem;

And as they sat in raiment fine,

So smug and soused with rosy wine,

This verse he read to them.



'You see yon birkie caw'ed a Lord,

Who struts and stares an' a' that,

Though hundreds worship at his word

He's but a coof for a' that.

For a' that and a' that,

A man's a man for a' that.



He pointed at that portly Grace

Who glared with apoplectic face,

While others stared with gloom;

Then having paid them all he owed,

Burns, Bard of Homespun, smiled and strode

Superbly from the room.