Of A' the Airts Thy Wind Can Blaw

[hall6]

Of A' the Airts thy Wind Can Blaw

(To the English Professors at Clemson University.)

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw,
Thy bleth'rin is the warst,
For tho' erudite you may be,
In "the dozens" ye tharst.
Twa an' ten hae I gied an' taen,
From mony an auld one too;
Na' a one culd I compare to
The blaudin' facing you.

An' while your bizzies be nae dreigh,
I fear you hoyte nae wise
Whan your haivers do daut o'er naething
Save your lang pass'd simmer,
For your skill you misteuk whan you
Said, "We can win that thing."
Nae! Haud thy whist! Nae! Keep it closed!
Aft' you lose, what will you sing?


J. Hall, Jr.

(Inspired by Robert Burns, Patron Saint of Graduate Students.)



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Joey hall

[celticjack]

gude stuff, Joey!...Reminds me o' Nature's Bard himself:

A set o' dull, conceited hashes
Confuse their brains in college classes;
They gang in stirks, and come out asses,
Plain truth t' speak;
An' syne they think t' climb Parnassus
By dint o' Greek!

Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire,
That's a' th' learnin' I desire;
Then, tho' I drudge thro' dub and mire
At pleugh or cart,
My Muse, tho' hamely in attire,
May touch th' heart.


Wee Rabbie would approve, lad!

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celticjack