Robert Burns tosses out a string of teasing, ridiculous questions about the whereabouts and fate of his friend, the antiquarian Captain Grose. Each stanza pairs a mock-serious query—has he died and gone to Abraham’s bosom, is he drowning in the Forth, was he slain and eaten like a haggis?—with a pealing, nonsense refrain that sounds like a children’s game or a drinking song. The speaker isn’t truly worried; the tone is fond, wink-and-nudge, full of that mix of ribbing and affection old friends share. The silly chorus (“Igo, and ago… Iram, coram, dago”) undercuts any real anxiety, turning the whole thing into a musical joke. By the end, the poem shifts into a mock-blessing and a casual request to deliver an enclosed letter, promising outlandish rewards like stones from Adam’s time or coins from Satan’s coronation. The mood is warm, lively, and a bit absurd—a pal’s playful way of saying “Where on earth have you got to?” without a shred of solemnity.
309. Verses on Captain Grose — Summary
KEN ye aught o’ Captain Grose?—Igo, and ago, If he’s amang his friends or foes?—Iram, coram, dago.
Is he to Abra’m’s bosom gane?—Igo, and ago, Or haudin Sarah by the wame?—Iram, coram dago.
Is he south or is he north?—Igo, and ago, Or drowned in the river Forth?—Iram, coram dago.
Is he slain by Hielan’ bodies?—Igo, and ago, And eaten like a wether haggis?—Iram, coram, dago.
Where’er he be, the Lord be near him!—Igo, and ago, As for the deil, he daur na steer him.—Iram, coram, dago.
But please transmit th’ enclosed letter,—Igo, and ago, Which will oblige your humble debtor.—Iram, coram, dago.
So may ye hae auld stanes in store,—Igo, and ago, The very stanes that Adam bore.—Iram, coram, dago,
So may ye get in glad possession,—Igo, and ago, The coins o’ Satan’s coronation!—Iram coram dago.