Friday Poetry Corner - Tribute to Robert Burns

[AlfredJPruffock]

The Worlds Wealth - when I think on
Its pride and the Love Of it
My curse on Silly Coward Man
That he should be the Slave of it !


For Auld Lang Syne My Dear
We'll take a cup o'kindness yet - for Auld Langs Syne !

[Churchill]

Not really a poem but a tribute

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 well may excuse
('Tis seldom her favourite passion):-

' Ye Powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide,
Who marked each element's border,
Who formed this frame with beneficial aim,
Whose sovereign statue is order,
Within this dear mansion my wayward Contention
Or withered Envy ne'er enter!
May secrecy round be the mystical bound,
And brotherly Love be the centre!

[AlfredJPruffock]

Much Ado Aboot - Naething


TO you, Dear CUk'er , this message I’ve posted ,
Pray, and bear me no Ill
But if you demand what I want,
I honestly answer you—naething.

Ne’er scorn a poor Poet like me,
For idly just living and breathing,
While people of every degree
Are busy employed about—naething.


The lover may sparkle and glow,
Approaching his bonie bit gay thing:
But marriage will soon let him know
He’s gotten—a buskit up naething.

The Poet may jingle and rhyme,
In hopes of a laureate wreathing,
And when he has wasted his time,
He’s kindly rewarded wi’—naething.

The thundering bully may rage,
And swagger and swear like a heathen;
But collar him fast, I’ll engage,
You’ll find that his courage is—naething.


And now I must mount on the wave—
My voyage perhaps there is death in;
But what is a watery grave?
The drowning a Poet is naething.


And now, as grim death’s in my thought,
To you, sir, I make this bequeathing;
My service as long as ye’ve ought,
And my friendship, by God, when ye’ve naething