Ode to a Poet

burnslong While we may not show it so overtly, we at the Acreage do have a might bit of Scottish heritage amongst us. Thus, we proudly salute, with one hand on our whisky, t'other on a sweet, wee heavy:
Scotland's Favorite Son... (drum roll)
The Ploughman Poet... (crescendo)
The Bard of Ayrshire... (bagpipes!!!)

Robden of Soloway Firth, ol' Robert Burns!!!!!!!!!!

Here, here!!!!!

Let other poets raise a fracas
"Bout vines, an' wines, an' drucken Bacchus,
An' crabbit names an'stories wrack us,
An' grate our lug:
I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,
In glass or jug.

O thou, my muse! guid auld Scotch drink!
Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink,
Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink,
In glorious faem,
Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink,
To sing thy name!

...

Thae curst horse-leeches o' the' Excise,
Wha mak the whisky stells their prize!
Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice!
There, seize the blinkers!
An' bake them up in brunstane pies
For poor damn'd drinkers.

Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still
Hale breeks, a scone, an' whisky gill,
An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,
Tak a' the rest,
An' deal't about as thy blind skill
Directs thee best.

posted 23 Jan 12 in: acres updates, blog   ·   No Comments

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