Here is another from our National Bard,
On scaring some water-fowl in Loch Turit
By Robert Burns
Why, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your wat'ry haunt forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
At my presence thus you fly?
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties?-
Common friend to you and me,
Nature's gifts to all are free:
Peaceful keep your dimpling wave,
Busy feed, or wanton lave;
Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
Bide the surging billow's shock.
Conscious, blushing for our race,
Soon, too soon, your fears I trace.
Man, your proud usurping foe,
Would be lord of all below:
Plumes himself in freedom's pride,
Tyrant stern to all beside.
The eagle, from the cliffy brow,
In his breast no pity dwells,
Strong necessity compels:
But Man, to whom alone is giv'n
A ray direct from pitying Heav'n
Glories in his heart humane-
And creatures for his pleasure slain!
In these savage, Liquid plains,
Only known to wand'ring swains,
Where the mossy riv'let strays,
Far from human haunts and ways:
All on Nature you depend,
And Life's poor season peaceful spend.
Or, if man's superior might
Dare invade your native right,
On the lofty ether borne,
Man with all his pow'rs you scorn;
Swiftly seek, on clanging wings,
Other lakes and other springs;
And the foe you cannot brave,
Scorn at least to be his slave.
A bit late for Burn's Night, but better late than never.
Andy
P.S. Another gem I picked up at the Burn's Night. I has nothing to with birds and was not written by the great man either, but was on the place mat.
Ode tae a Faert
O' whit a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter a feastie
Just as you sit doon among yair kin
There starts tae stir an enormus wind
The neeps and tatties and mushy peas
Stert working like a gentle breeze
But soon the pudding wi' sauncie face
Will hae ye blawn aw o'er the place
Author Unknown
