This poem first appeared in ‘For A’That’, a Dundee University Press anthology celebrating Robert Burns (ed. Kirsty Gunn and Anna Day). It was later selected by The Scotsman as their ‘Poem of the Month’ (January 2010).
The mouse and the louse
crawl between continents.
Holy hypocrisy spans centuries
as the cries of bastard weans
echo in the cities.
The mountain still springs daisies
as the Twa Dogs bite.
A face now stamps banknotes
where once only letters ran.
Through fluctuating fashions
he stood within the frame,
bowed head and bent knee
made meaningless, dulled to archaism
when poet and people are one.
This peasant did not kneel
and will never kneel while we sing.
A Bookworm's Blog 