To A Man - the mousies riposteA Poem by alanwgrahamMy attempt tae turn Robert Burns poem 'To a mouse' on it's heidTo a Man - the mousie’s riposte Muckle, ower daft, hard-nekit,
craiturs O what an maistery's
in thy features I ken that mony are feart o’ mice But mousie traps are nae sae nice
I’m truly sorry mousie’s span's Aboot tae slither doon the pan And justifies yer ill opinion Ye hae o’ us, yer wee’est minion
But think on it, all earth-born mortals Each ane will tread the murky portals O’ certain, self-imposed extinction There’s few acquitted wi’ distinction
You’ve brocht us tae a sorry pass Just tarry lang, afore the glass Ye’ll see the culprit o’ oor doom Afore the final curtains loom
I’m truly sorry man’s dominion Has broke oor web o’ social union and no' excuse that fricht ye gie us in oor wee hoose a'neath
the grass
The mair ye think and mak’ yer plans Ye'll glaikit turn, and ken that man’s shuir demise will nae dout come tae a’ o’ us, an no just some now you’re the heidy yin about ye hae the wit, ye hae the clout Oor ane wee heids devoid o’ guile A’ mousies dae is nibble an smile Still, I am blessed compared wi thee This moment only toucheth me Into the future I can not keek and see that you'll be up the creek
Ane thing I ken, we’re oot o luck an' thanks tae man we're truly f*cked!
I'll gie ye a puckle words ye micht nae ken! gie- give, puckle - small amount, ye - you, micht - might, nae - not, ken - know A few mair! muckle - big, neckit -necked, feart - afraid, brocht - brought, glaikit - stupid, glass -mirror, heids-heads heidy - brainy, ane -one, dae-do, aneath-beneath, f*cked- that's old english! Note: The above poem is intended to turn Burn's wonderful and prophetic poem 'To a Mouse' on its head and give what the wee mousie might have said. I have focused on certain sections of the poem. To a mouse Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee, I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, That wee bit heap o’ leaves and stibble, But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, Still thou are blest, compared wi’ me!
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13 Reviews Added on November 28, 2019 Last Updated on January 25, 2020 AuthoralanwgrahamScotland, United KingdomAboutMarried with three kids, I retired early from teaching physics but have always enjoyed mountains. In my forties I experienced a manic episode which kick-started a creative urge. I've written a novel .. more..Writing
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