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This ballad, by Robert Burns, is familiar to every one. Chambers, in his Lite and Works of the Poet, says, the production "is curious, as an example of that brief direct narration in which the rustic mind usually gives its version of the most complicated political and historical transactions."
When Guildford good our pilot stood,
And did our helm thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea,
Within America, man; Then up they gat the maskin'-pat,
And in the sea did jaw, man; And did nae less, in full Congress,
Than quite refuse our law, man.