Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murdering pattle.
Robbie Burns (1759-1796). Burns was destined to be one of the greatest poets of all time, but unfortunately nobody could make out a single word of it all. What a tragedy! My own “Will Ye Nae Lend Me a Fiver till the End of the Week” is much more profound and accessible, and is the first in a major anthology which I hope to have finished by lunchtime and publish as an Amazon e-book. Watch this space!