Wednesday, 25 January 2017

Welcome to Peccadillo's Water Story blog

Happy Burns day 2017, what better day to launch our Water Story blog.

To start us off as we mean to carry on, this contribution is from Pat Sutherland.


Rab, I wish you knew.

You were a man o' pairts, Rab,
a poet wi' pen, a sophist wi' plough,
stoppin' amang the stour
tae beg a moosie's pardon,
say sorry tae a daisy;
mockin' the unco' guid
then lickin' their boots
for patronage.

A  lusty man, Rab,
wi' charm an' sweetest words
ye won the lassies,
faitherin' bairns across the county,
keepin' warm the cutty stool
fur sake o' cutty sarks,
ge'in'  gleefu' gossip
tae warpit auld wives.

You loved them a', Rab,
the Jeans an Lizzies,
jist no wan at a time,
an' them that deid or left,
you loved forever.

Above a', Rab, a workin' man,
you filled each year
wi' toil;
tied tae a plough,
you laboured
in the futile fields
an wrote an wrote
by candle licht
seein' your best laid schemes
wasted, like sodden acres.


You deid too soon, Rab,
before the word went roon,
before  Rab the Rhymer
gie'd way tae 'Scotland's Bard'
before, across the globe
shackled nations sang
that man to man, the world o'er,
shall brithers be for a' that.

Today we toast you
and a' your works:
the sangs, the poems,
the lassies, the bairns -
the words that winna dee:
Here's freedom to them that would read.
Here's freedom to them that would write!
There's nane ever feare'd that the truth should be heard
But they wham the truth wid indite!
Oh Rab, I wish you knew.



by Pat Sutherland

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