Here you will find the Long Poem Holy Fair, The of poet Robert Burns
1 Upon a simmer Sunday morn, 2 When Nature's face is fair, 3 I walked forth to view the corn 4 An' snuff the caller air. 5 The risin' sun owre Galston muirs 6 Wi' glorious light was glintin, 7 The hares were hirplin down the furrs, 8 The lav'rocks they were chantin 9 Fu' sweet that day. 10 As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad 11 To see a scene sae gay, 12 Three hizzies, early at the road, 13 Cam skelpin up the way. 14 Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black, 15 But ane wi' lyart linin; 16 The third, that gaed a wee a-back, 17 Was in the fashion shining 18 Fu' gay that day. 19 The twa appear'd like sisters twin 20 In feature, form, an' claes; 21 Their visage wither'd, lang an' thin, 22 An' sour as ony slaes. 23 The third cam up, hap-step-an'-lowp, 24 As light as ony lambie, 25 An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, 26 As soon as e'er she saw me, 27 Fu' kind that day. 28 Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, "Sweet lass, 29 I think ye seem to ken me; 30 I'm sure I've seen that bonie face, 31 But yet I canna name ye." 32 Quo' she, an' laughin as she spak, 33 An' taks me by the han's, 34 "Ye, for my sake, hae gien the feck 35 Of a' the ten comman's 36 A screed some day. 37 "My name is Fun--your cronie dear, 38 The nearest friend ye hae; 39 An' this is Superstition here, 40 An' that's Hypocrisy. 41 I'm gaun to Mauchline Holy Fair, 42 To spend an hour in daffin: 43 Gin ye'll go there, you runkl'd pair, 44 We will get famous laughin 45 At them this day." 46 Quoth I, "With a' my heart, I'll do't: 47 I'll get my Sunday's sark on, 48 An' meet you on the holy spot; 49 Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin!" 50 Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time 51 An' soon I made me ready; 52 For roads were clad frae side to side 53 Wi' monie a wearie body 54 In droves that day. 55 Here, farmers gash, in ridin graith, 56 Gaed hoddin by their cotters, 57 There swankies young, in braw braidclaith 58 Are springin owre the gutters. 59 The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang, 60 In silks an' scarlets glitter, 61 Wi' sweet-milk cheese in mony a whang, 62 An' farls, bak'd wi' butter, 63 Fu' crump that day. 64 When by the plate we set our nose, 65 Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence, 66 A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws, 67 An' we maun draw our tippence. 68 Then in we go to see the show: 69 On ev'ry side they're gath'rin, 70 Some carryin dails, some chairs an' stools, 71 An' some are busy bleth'rin 72 Right loud that day. ... 82 Here some are thinkin on their sins, 83 An' some upo' their claes; 84 Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, 85 Anither sighs an' prays: 86 On this hand sits a chosen swatch, 87 Wi' screw'd-up grace-proud faces; 88 On that a set o' chaps at watch, 89 Thrang winkin on the lasses 90 To chairs that day. 91 O happy is that man and blest! 92 Nae wonder that it pride him! 93 Whase ain dear lass that he likes best, 94 Comes clinkin down beside him! 95 Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back, 96 He sweetly does compose him; 97 Which by degrees slips round her neck, 98 An's loof upon her bosom, 99 Unken'd that day. 100 Now a' the congregation o'er 101 Is silent expectation; 102 For Moodie speels the holy door, 103 Wi' tidings o' salvation. 104 Should Hornie, as in ancient days, 105 'Mang sons o' God present him, 106 The vera sight o' Moodie's face 107 To's ain het hame had sent him 108 Wi' fright that day. 109 Hear how he clears the points o' faith 110 Wi' rattlin an' wi' thumpin! 111 Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath 112 He's stampin, an' he's jumpin! 113 His lengthen'd chin, his turn'd-up snout, 114 His eldritch squeal and gestures, 115 Oh, how they fire the heart devout 116 Like cantharidian plaisters, 117 On sic a day! 118 But hark! the tent has chang'd its voice: 119 There's peace and rest nae langer; 120 For a' the real judges rise, 121 They canna sit for anger. 122 Smith opens out his cauld harangues, 123 On practice and on morals; 124 An' aff the godly pour in thrangs, 125 To gie the jars an' barrels 126 A lift that day. 127 What signifies his barren shine 128 Of moral pow'rs and reason? 129 His English style an' gesture fine 130 Are a' clean out o' season. 131 Like Socrates or Antonine 132 Or some auld pagan heathen, 133 The moral man he does define, 134 But ne'er a word o' faith in 135 That's right that day. 136 In guid time comes an antidote 137 Against sic poison'd nostrum; 138 For Peebles, frae the water-fit, 139 Ascends the holy rostrum: 140 See, up he's got the word o' God 141 An' meek an' mim has view'd it, 142 While Common Sense has ta'en the road, 143 An's aff, an' up the Cowgate 144 Fast, fast that day.