cybertoothtiger: (Default)
 Happy Robbie Burns Day!

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o need,
While thro your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An cut you up wi ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich! 

Profile

cybertoothtiger: (Default)
cybertoothtiger

April 2010

S M T W T F S
    123
456 78910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728 2930 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 20th, 2017 06:34 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios