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笔趣阁 > Poems and Songs of Robert Burns > the dean of faculty

the dean of faculty

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.

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 opened yet,

till for eloquence you hail him,

and swear that he has the angel met

that met the ass of balaam.

in your heretic sins may you live and die,

ye heretic eight-and-tairty!

but accept, ye sublime majority,

my congratulations hearty.

with your honours, as with a certain king,

in your servants this is striking,

the more incapacity they bring,

the more they're to your liking.

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