A Stroll Though Memory, Time and Politics With Stops Along The Way
A ragged urchin, aimless and alone,
Loitered about that vacancy, a bird
Flew up to safety from his well-aimed stone’
That girls are raped, that
two boys knife a third,
Were axioms to him who’d never heard
Of any world where promises were kept
Or one could weep because another wept.
Retired great grandmother living in the Northwest US. Former radio Public Service Director and National Accounts Manager.
I’m a hair-dishevelled heilan’ coo,
Hamish McKay be ma name;
Welcome tae this dreichet glen
I’m cursed tae ca’ ma hame.
Depending on the mood I’m in
I’ll raise ma horns on high,
An’ if I like the look o’ ye
I’ll likely let ye by.
But should I dinnae like the look
O’ ye, then tak great care,
I’ll raise ma horns on high again,
Go on, get oot o’there!
So whether welcome yae or nae,
I’ll raise these horns sae mean,
Then ye shall ken ma meaning
By the twinkle o’ ma een.
Courtesy of
MARION GRAY Wollaton Road Wollaton Park Nottingham