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... Masonic Poems by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796)


by Robert Burnes

Ther's many a badge thats unco braw;

            Wi' ribbon, lace and tape on:

Let Kings an' Princes wear them a'-

Gie me the Masters apron!


The honest craftsman's apron,

The jolly Freemasons apron,

Be he at hame, or roam afar,

Before his touch fa's holt and bar

The gates of fortune fly ajar'

'Gin he but wears the apron.


For wealth and honour, pride and power

Are crumbling stanes to base on;

Eternity suld rule the hour,

And ilka worthy Mason.

Each ancient crafted Mason.


Then, brithers, let halesome sang

Arise your friendly ranks alang!

Guidwives and bairnies blithly string

Thats is worn by the Master Mason.




Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,

To follow the noble vocation;

Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another

To sit in that honoured station.

I've little to say, but only to pray,

As praying's the ton of your fashion;

A prayer from the muse you will excuse,

"Tis seldom her favorite passion.


Ye powers who preside o'er wind and the tide,

Who marked each element's border,

Who formed this frame with beneficent aim

Whose sovereign statute is order,

Within this dear mansion may wayward contention,

Or withered envy ne'er enter,

May secrecy round be the mystic bound

And Brotherly love be the centre


by Brother Robert Burns

Adieu, a heart warm, fond adieu,
Dear brothers of the mystic tie!
Ye favored, ye enlightened few,
Companions of my social joy!
Tho' I to foreign lands must hie,
Pursuing fortune's slidd'ry ba',--
With melting heart and brimful eye,
I'll mind you still, though far awa'.

Oft have I met your social band,
An' spent the cheerful, festive night;
Oft, honored with supreme command,
Presided o'er the sons of light;
And by that Hieroglyphic bright,
Which none but Craftsmen ever saw,
Strong memory on my heart shall write
Those happy scenes, when far awa'.

May freedom, harmony and love
Unite you in the grand design,
Beneath th' omniscient Eye above,
The glorious Architect divine; --
That you may keep the unerring line,
Still rising by the plummet's law,
Till order bright completely shine,
Shall be my prayer when far awa'.

And you farewell, whose merits claim
Justly that highest badge to wear,--
Heaven bless your honored, noble name,
To Masonry and Scotia dear!
A last request, permit me here;
When yearly ye assemble a',
One round, -- I ask it with a tear
To him, the Bard, that's far awa'