A Robert Burns Poem

WHAT dost thou in that mansion fair?
Flit, Galloway, and find
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
The picture of thy mind.
- - - No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
The Stewarts ’ll were brave;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.

Bright ran thy line, O Galloway,
Thro’ many a far-fam’d sire!
So ran the far-famed Roman way,
And ended in a mire.
- - - Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway!
In quiet let me live:
I ask no kindness at thy hand,
For thou hast none to give.