Classic and Contemporary Poetry
RHYMES FOR THE TIMES: 1, by JANET HAMILTON Poet's Biography First Line: I've juist been thinkin', neebour johnnie Last Line: She bids you guardo mithers! Mithers! Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton, Janet Thompson Subject(s): Rhyme | ||||||||
I'VE juist been thinkin', neebour Johnnie, Gif that the warl had mendit ony Since, for the wurkin' man's disasters, We've got sae mony sa's and plaisters. I've leukit laighI've leukit heigh The gude time comin's unco dreigh; There's routh o' teachers, schules, an' beuks, Chapels an' kirks in a' the neuks, Academies an' institutions, Wi' scientific contributions, On whilk ye may put a' reliance, An' muckle tauk on social science, Mechanics, engineerin', minin', The gate o' cleanin' an' refinin' Our hooses, streets, oor coorts an' closes, An' a' that hurts oor health an' noses; 'Bout chemistry, steam, gas, an' win', The vera lichtnin's luggit in, An' music, paintin', architecture, A' weel rede up in mony a lecture, We meet to argue what we think, We meet to cow that horrid drink, We meet to read, recite, an' sing, An' mony a queer conceitie thing. Noo, wurkin' men yersel's respec', Nor leeve in ignorance an' neglec'; Ye've means, but want the wull to use them, Ye whiles neglec', an' whiles abuse them; Ye hae nae time for e'enin' classes; Ye've time to drink, an' see the lasses Staun at hoose-en', or change-hoose door, An' smoke an' swear, an' raise a splore, An' play at cards, or fecht wi' dougs, An' whiles to clout ilk ither's lugs; O wad ye no be muckle better To read a book, or write a letter? Had ye the wull, wi' book an' pen Ye'd fin' the way to mak' ye men, An' mithers, dae ye ken the poo'rs, The strength for gude or ill, that's yours, An' that the gabbin' todlin' things, That's hingin' be yer apron strings, Wull be a millstane roun' yer neck To droon yer sauls, if ye neglec' To win their hearts, an' train their min', In a' that's virtuous, gude, an' kin'? Yer lassocks, that ye tak' sic pride in, Hae muckle need o' carefu' guidin'; Mislippent sair they've been, I ween They gang ower muckle oot at e'en; An' fallows are grown sae misleart, The glaikit things micht weel be feart, For aften dule and burnin' shame Comes poisonin' mony a puir man's hame, An' gars ye greet, an' rage, an' flyte, An' the puir faither maist gang gyte; An' puir aul' Scotlan' hings her heid An' bids ye leuk to this wi' speed; Her bonnie lassocks, 'bune a' ithers, She bids you guardO mithers! mithers! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CATCH A LITTLE RHYME by EVE MERRIAM ESSAY: THE INFINITE ASSONANCES WITHIN by ELENI SIKELIANOS SWEATER WEATHER: A LOVE SONG TO LANGUAGE by SHARON BRYAN A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON A RHYME by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ERRING IN COMPANY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ON THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF READING MATTER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE BARD'S EXCUSE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A BALLAD FOUNDED ON A REAL INCIDENT WHICH OCCURED IN HIGH LIFE by JANET HAMILTON |
|