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Poem for the Day

Posted: 25 June 2014

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi muckle faught and din.
"Oh try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues,
Your faither's comin' in."
They niver heed a word I speak,
I try tae gie a froon,
But aye I hap' them up an' cry
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!" ...

Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid,
He aye sleeps next the wa'
Bangs up and cries, "I want a piece!"
The rascal starts them a'.
I rin and fetch them pieces, drinks,
They stop a wee the soun',
Then draw the blankets up an' cry,
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon."

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot frae neath the claes,
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at aince,
He's kittlin' wi' his taes."
The mischief in that Tam for tricks,
He'd bother half the toon,
But aye I hap them up an' cry,
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"

At length they hear their faither's fit
An' as he steeks the door,
They turn their faces tae the wa'
An Tam pretends tae snore.
"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks,
As he pits aff his shoon.
"The bairnies, John, are in their beds
An' lang since cuddled doon!"

An' just afore we bed oorsel's
We look at oor wee lambs,
Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck
An Rab his airm roun' Tam's.
I lift wee Jamie up the bed
An' as I straik each croon,
I whisper till my heart fills up:
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' mirth that's dear tae me.
But soon the big warl's cark an' care
Will quaten doon their glee.
Yet come what will to ilka ane,
May He who rules aboon,
Aye whisper, though their pows be bald:
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"

Cuddle Doon
Alexander Anderson

Poem for the Day

Posted: 24 June 2014

My name is Thomas Muir as a lawyer I was trained,
But you've branded me an outlaw, for sedition I'm arraigned.
But I never preached sedition in any shape or form,
And against the constitution I have never raised a storm,
It's the scoundrels who've corrupted it that I wan...t to reform,
Remember Thomas Muir of Huntershill.

M'lord, you found me guilty before the trial began
And the jury that you've picked are Tory placement's to a man.
Yet here I stand for judgement, unafraid what may befall,
Though your spies were in my parish Kirk and in my father's hall,
Not one of them can testify I ever broke a law,
Remember Thomas Muir of Huntershill.

Yes, I spoke to Paisley weavers and addressed the city's youth,
For neither age nor class should be a barrier to the truth.
M'lord, you may chastise them, with your vitriolic tongue,
You say that books are dangerous to those I moved among,
But the future of our land is with the workers and the young,
Remember Thomas Muir of Huntershill.

Members of the jury, it's not me who's being tried,
200 years in future they will mind what you decide.
You may send me to Van Dieman's Land, or clap me in the jail,
Grant me death or grant me liberty my spirit will not fail.
For my cause it is a just one and, my cause it will prevail,
Remember Thomas Muir of Huntershill.

With quiet words and dignity Muir led his own defence,
He appeared completely blameless to those with common sense.
When he had finished speaking the courtroom rang with cheers,
Lord Braxfield said, "This outburst just confirms our greatest fears",
And he sentenced Thomas Muir to be transported 14 years,
Remember Thomas Muir of Huntershill.

Gerrard, Palmer, Skirving, Thomas Muir and Margarot,
These are names that every Scottish man and woman ought to know.
When you're called for jury service, when your name is drawn by lot,
When you vote in an election, when you freely voice your thought,
Don't take these things for granted, for dearly were they bought,
Remember Thomas Muir of Huntershill.

Thomas Muir of Huntershill
Adam McNaughton

Poem for the Day

Posted: 23 June 2014

Ye banks and braes o’ bonny Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary full of care!
You'll break my heart, you warbling bird,
That wantons through the flowering thorn:
Reminds me o’ departed joys,
Departed never to return. ...

Aft hae I roved by bonny Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine:
And ilka bird sang o’ its love,
And fondly sae did I o’ mine;
Wi' lightsome heart I pulled a rose,
Full sweet upon its thorny tree!
But my false lover stole the rose,
But she left the thorn wi’ me.

Ye Banks and Braes
Robert Burns

Poem for the Day

Posted: 22 June 2014

My heart was heavy, for its trust had been
Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong;
So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men,
One summer Sabbath day I strolled among
The green mounds of the village buria...l-place;
Where, pondering how all human love and hate
Find one sad level; and how, soon or late,
Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face,
And cold hands folded over a still heart,
Pass the green threshold of our common grave,
Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart,
Awed for myself, and pitying my race,
Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave,
Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave!

Forgiveness
John Greenleaf Whittier

Poem for the Day

Posted: 21 June 2014

With a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams
The full world rolls in a rhythm of praise,
And the winds are one with the clouds and beams -
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
The dusk grows vast; in a purple haze,
While the West from a rapture of sunset rights,
Faint stars their exquisite lamps upraise -
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!...

The wood's green heart is a nest of dreams,
The lush grass thickens and springs and sways,
The rathe wheat rustles, the landscape gleams -
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
In the stilly fields, in the stilly ways,
All secret shadows and mystic lights,
Late lovers murmur and linger and gaze -
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!

There's a music of bells from the trampling teams,
Wild skylarks hover, the gorses blaze,
The rich, ripe rose as with incense steams -
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
A soul from the honeysuckle strays,
And the nightingale as from prophet heights
Sings to the Earth of her million Mays -
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!

Envoy

And it's O, for my dear and the charm that stays -
Midsummer days! Midsummer days!
It's O, for my Love and the dark that plights -
Midsummer nights! O midsummer nights!

Ballade of Midsummer Days and Nights
William Ernest Henley

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