Analysis of Halloween

Robert Burns 1759 (Alloway) – 1796 (Dumfries)



Upon that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean the route is ta'en,
Beneath the moon's pale beams;
There, up the cove, to stray and rove,
Among the rocks and streams
To sport that night.

Among the bonny winding banks,
Where Doon rins, wimplin' clear,
Where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks,
And shook his Carrick spear,
Some merry, friendly, country-folks,
Together did convene,
To burn their nits, and pou their stocks,
And haud their Halloween
Fu' blithe that night.

The lasses feat, and cleanly neat,
Mair braw than when they're fine;
Their faces blithe, fu' sweetly kythe,
Hearts leal, and warm, and kin';
The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs,
Weel knotted on their garten,
Some unco blate, and some wi' gabs,
Gar lasses' hearts gang startin'
Whiles fast at night.

Then, first and foremost, through the kail,
Their stocks maun a' be sought ance;
They steek their een, and graip and wale,
For muckle anes and straught anes.
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,
And wander'd through the bow-kail,
And pou't, for want o' better shift,
A runt was like a sow-tail,
Sae bow't that night.

Then, staught or crooked, yird or nane,
They roar and cry a' throu'ther;
The very wee things, todlin', rin,
Wi' stocks out owre their shouther;
And gif the custoc's sweet or sour.
Wi' joctelegs they taste them;
Syne cozily, aboon the door,
Wi cannie care, they've placed them
To lie that night.

The lasses staw frae 'mang them a'
To pou their stalks of corn:
But Rab slips out, and jinks about,
Behint the muckle thorn:
He grippet Nelly hard and fast;
Loud skirl'd a' the lasses;
But her tap-pickle maist was lost,
When kitlin' in the fause-house
Wi' him that night.

The auld guidwife's well-hoordit nits,
Are round and round divided,
And monie lads' and lasses' fates
Are there that night decided:
Some kindle coothie, side by side,
And burn thegither trimly;
Some start awa, wi' saucy pride,
And jump out-owre the chimlie
Fu' high that night.

Jean slips in twa wi' tentie ee;
Wha 'twas she wadna tell;
But this is Jock, and this is me,
She says in to hersel:
He bleezed owre her, and she owre him,
As they wad never mair part;
Till, fuff! he started up the lum,
And Jean had e'en a sair heart
To see't that night.

Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt,
Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie;
And Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt,
To be compared to Willie;
Mall's nit lap out wi' pridefu' fling,
And her ain fit it brunt it;
While Willie lap, and swore by jing,
'Twas just the way he wanted
To be that night.

Nell had the fause-house in her min',
She pits hersel and Rob in;
In loving bleeze they sweetly join,
Till white in ase they're sobbin';
Nell's heart was dancin' at the view,
She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't:
Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonny mou',
Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,
Unseen that night.

But Merran sat behint their backs,
Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
She lea'es them gashin' at their cracks,
And slips out by hersel:
She through the yard the nearest taks,
And to the kiln goes then,
And darklins graipit for the bauks,
And in the blue-clue throws then,
Right fear't that night.

And aye she win't, and aye she swat,
I wat she made nae jaukin',
Till something held within the pat,
Guid Lord! but she was quakin'!
But whether 'was the deil himsel,
Or whether 'twas a bauk-en',
Or whether it was Andrew Bell,
She didna wait on talkin'
To spier that night.

Wee Jennie to her grannie says,
"Will ye go wi' me, grannie?
I'll eat the apple at the glass
I gat frae Uncle Johnnie:"
She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
In wrath she was sae vap'rin',
She notice't na, an aizle brunt
Her braw new worset apron
Out through that night.

"Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!
I daur you try sic sportin',
As seek the foul thief ony place,
For him to spae your fortune.
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
Great cause ye hae to fear it;
For mony a ane has gotten a fright,
And lived and died deleeret
On sic a night.

"Ae hairst afore the Sherramoor, --
I mind't as weel's yestreen,
I was a gilpey then, I'm sure
I wasna past fifteen;
The simmer had bee


Scheme ABXBCDXDA EFEFXGXGA XXXHXIBCA JBJBKJKJA CFCFXLXLA XMXMXBXXA BNXXOJOJA PQPJXRXRA APAPSTSNA HHXCXPLPA UQUJBCBCA XCXCJCQIA XCXPVCVIA WCWIATAAA FCXGP
Poetic Form
Metre 01111101 1111 11010101 11011 11101111 010111 11011101 010101 1111 01010101 11111 11110101 011101 11010101 010101 11110111 01101 1111 0110101 111111 11011101 110101 0111111 1101110 1110111 11111 1111 1101101 1110111 11110101 1101011 1111101 0101011 011111101 0111011 11111 11110111 110101 0101111 111111 01011110 11111 11101 111111 1111 0111110 111111 11110101 10101 1110101 11001 10110111 110011 1111 011111 1101010 011011 111110 1101111 0111 1111101 011101 1111 1101111 11111 11110111 11011 11100111 1111011 11110101 01111011 11111 11011111 111110 01011101 1101110 1111111 0011111 11010111 1101110 1111 11011001 111010 01011101 110111 1111101 11011111 1110101 1100111 0111 111111 011101 11111111 01111 11010101 010111 011101 0001111 11111 011110111 111111 11010101 111111 1101011 1101011 11011101 111110 11011 1101011 111111 11010101 1111010 11011101 011111 11011111 011110 1111 110111 111111 1101111 1111110 11111101 1111111 1100111001 01011 1101 11101 111111 1101111 11101 01011
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 4,116
Words 754
Sentences 24
Stanzas 15
Stanza Lengths 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 5
Lines Amount 131
Letters per line (avg) 24
Words per line (avg) 6
Letters per stanza (avg) 207
Words per stanza (avg) 50
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 15, 2023

3:55 min read
441

Robert Burns

Robert Burns was a Scottish poet and lyricist. more…

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    "Halloween" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/30499/halloween>.

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