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Sonnets To Robert Fergusson

1 Fegs, Rab, fa’s thon gowk stravaigin truly who’s fool wandering doon the road, his clart locks shakin dirty and wheemerin o’ his spaul-banes achin? complaining back-bones

Puir bummer,

singer dreein a darg o’ pratie-howkin bearing aa bluidy summer.

job of work potato-

Keekin oot frae Auld Meldrum looking ye maun hae seen Bennachie’s lum must chimney faur a haill clamjamfrie cam where whole crowd fer a stramash fight in Roman times, lea’in sum puir fowk gey hasht. badly injured But fit’s that noo stramash I’m hearin’? what’s argument Jouk in here, or we’re forfaren! duck done-for picking

14 Yet part we maun, wi’ teemit wame, empty belly nae gweed braid claith tae aither’s name good broad cloth either’s an nae mair crack as ye tramp hame, dialogue forwandert chiel lost child wi’ naewey ’neath the mune’s bricht leam nowhere glow tae gie ye biel. shelter Ettlin tae souch fareweel I’m drooned trying to sigh oot by the traffeck soothwart-boond, south-bound an Aberdein is dreich, dreich grund fer a gaun-aboot wanderer wha tholes tho he can scantlins staund endures hardly stand ilk bygaein plowt, each passing shower an hailsed by nae lumb’s cadgy reek welcomed chimney’s friendly smoke alane throu wund and mirk maun treik. alone wind and dark tramp

David Wheatley the poems


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