Tha Gowk’s Defence ©
Marc R. Sherland
Some glower, swearin that I am a Jock,
But I wis always takin stock,
They think tha tartan and tha shortbread me,
Is all there is to taste and see.
Tha Gowk’s an awfie crafty, sleekit bird,
An I’m nae summed up by a wird,
Tae tak tae flight an see whoar I hae been,
Yer need tae open up yer een.
Fer I wis aften testing bounds and rules,
To challenge them, thaey simper fools,
An lookin fer tha justice and tha lack
Sae I might pin it on their back.
Ma caw, pretending lik tha whitest dove,
Sam hae thoat, promised lastin love,
Ma heart sae vast, wis spreaded far an wide,
As ful streeched wings ma land espied.
Samtimes I sneckit in sam ithers nest,
Tae tak ma chance tae savur best,
But I haed aways got a lu’ o’ theam,
Twas not a simple layin thaen.
If gaudy feathers was left in hir nest,
I paid ma due, I wis nae pest.
Nae omlette wis makin o’ ma produce,
Wis a prood faither, yoo deduce.
An only thaen I stoapt, whaen God cawed time,
Tae sum up reason an ma rhyme.
Sam birds a lasting tryst, as couples make,
Twas not ma nature or ma sake.
This mae offend, I’m no tha judge o’ that,
Ye mae withdraw tha welcome mat,
But I’m a creature, that tha Laird haes made,
An that is aw, that caun be said.