Thomas Moore

Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print.

Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print.

Where bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

Where bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood disconsolate.

One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood disconsolate.

Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
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Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd, to wing the dart,
Which rank corruption destines for their heart!

For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
He's na let a cat on the Sabbath read more

For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
He's na let a cat on the Sabbath say "mew;"
Nae birdie maun whistle, nae lambie maun play,
An' Phoebus himsel' could na travel that day,
As he'd find a new Joshua in Andie Agnew.