The Dean of Faculty. A new Ballad (Poem by Robert Burns)

The Dean of Faculty

A new Ballad

By Robert Burns

(1)

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 Faculty’s Dean, Sir. — 

(2)

This Hal for genius, wit, and lore,

    Among the first was number’d;

But pious Bob, ‘mid learning’s store,

    Commandment tenth remember’d. — 

Yet simple Bob the victory got,

    And won his heart’s desire;

Which shows that heaven can boil the pot,

    Though the devil p — s in the fire. — 

(3)

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. — 

(4)

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 open’d yet

    Till for eloquence you hail him,

And swear he has the angel met

    That met the Ass of Balaam.