Saturday, November 11, 2006

The ghost of Robert Burns

Unope the windows,
Freezing rain is shattering down,
Onto me striving brow.

Clae quick the shutters,
The wind is all ahowl,
Me hair is on the blow.

Slam now the door,
Or chill will be acreep,
Acrost the floor is how.

Roll in the drapes,
Tae keep the warmness in,
And stay the hand of winterscold.

Bring ye the bottle,
And gie it tae me,
Twill warmup our blood.

1969

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