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In an earlier post I was talking about the poet Robert Burns & the political nature of some of his poetry & so I would
like to share with you one of his poems. The poem is A Man's A Man for A THAT which expresses his view that people are the
same in essence wherever they are; their wealth & poverty; their beliefs & religion; the colour of their skin are
all secondary qualities. The King Or Queen Presidents & Prime Ministers etc. are still just human beings. This poem now
reminds me of John Lennon's song IMAGINE; both represent a type idealism which in the time of Robert Burns as now is dismissed
as naive. Yet the sentiment for many people is still appealing even in these dark times in which we find ourselves.
After 9/11 the song IMAGINE was banned from various radio stations in the US & Canada. Robert Burns' poem is often
left out of the more popular selected works along with his poem MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN . These two poems of Burns are not usually
among the poems of his studied in schools -far too political or whatever.
As for the banning of material from the schools & from the public it opens up a whole can of worms which I will talk
about at a later time.
I found the poem on the following web site: www.electricscotland.com/burns/
Note there is also a handy glossary of Scottish terms on this web site which is extremely useful.
Anyway without further ado here is the poem:
A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT
BY ROBERT BURNS
Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave-we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that.
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man's a Man for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that;
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.
And here is a whimsical little ditty of my own:
LISTEN TO THIS HE SAID
Part I
Listen to this he said
this is important
everything depends on it
we have to become extreme
to go from one extreme
to another satisfying
all our needs
to find the middle way
to become who we are-
But listen to this he said
we need a teacher
a new Guru
someone who travelled
this path before us-
Going on our little journey
unaware of it all
of all that we do
of all that we could do
unaware of where we are
unaware of where we are going
nuking our bridges behind us
nuking the bridges before us-
Listen to this he said
this is important
we are barely awake
sleeping in so late
hours slowed down to a crawl
a traffic jam in the Jumble Jar
considering taking a few too many pills
to end the pain-
Listen to this she said
my sister I tell you
was always depressed
so many times attempting
to end it cutting her wrist
popping pills driving a car
a maniac on the road
jumping from a lofty height
off of some Ivory Tower
off of some Glttering Tower
of glass finally did the deed
with a bit of style
a hundred pills & a bottle
of nicely aged twelve-year-old
smokey scotch -
Listen to this
you need to hear it
this is important
there is a precise order
to the cosmos
it turns around
spreads outward
in between is chaos
beneath it all
is order
building blocks of creation-
Listen I must tell you this
the foghorn sounds all night long
firetrucks rumble by two
or three times every hour
ambulances rush by carrying
plague victims tossing bodies
into open pits for fear of contagion
spilling lime on the piles of corpses
the attendants & gravediggers
dressed like astronauts-
This I tell you is important
we have become prisoners
of this run-down rooming-house
of the soul-
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