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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408725" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Robbie's Statue</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grown tired of mourning for my sins—<br>And brooding over merits—<br>The other night with bothered brow<br>I went amongst the spirits;<br>And I met one that I knew well:<br>‘Oh, Scotty’s Ghost, is that you?<br>‘And did you see the fearsome crowd<br>‘At Robbie Burns’s statue? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘They hurried up in hansom cabs,<br>‘Tall-hatted and frock-coated;<br>‘They trained it in from all the towns,<br>‘The weird and hairy-throated;<br>‘They spoke in some outlandish tongue,<br>‘They cut some comic capers,<br>‘And ilka man was wild to get<br>‘His name in all the papers. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘They showed no gleam of intellect,<br>‘Those frauds who rushed before us;<br>‘They knew one verse of “Auld Lang Syne—”<br>‘The first one and the chorus:<br>‘They clacked the clack o’ Scotlan’s Bard,<br>‘They glibly talked of “Rabby;”<br>‘But what if he had come to them<br>‘Without a groat and shabby? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘They drank and wept for Robbie’s sake,<br>‘They stood and brayed like asses<br>‘(The living bard’s a drunken rake,<br>‘The dead one loved the lasses);<br>‘If Robbie Burns were here, they’d sit<br>‘As still as any mouse is;<br>‘If Robbie Burns should come their way,<br>‘They’d turn him out their houses. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Oh, weep for bonny Scotland’s bard!<br>‘And praise the Scottish nation,<br>‘Who made him spy and let him die<br>‘Heart-broken in privation:<br>‘Exciseman, so that he might live<br>‘Through northern winters’ rigours—<br>‘Just as in southern lands they give<br>‘The hard-up rhymer figures. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘We need some songs of stinging fun<br>‘To wake the States and light ’em;<br>‘I wish a man like Robert Burns<br>‘Were here to-day to write ’em!<br>‘But still the mockery shall survive<br>‘Till the Day o’ Judgment crashes—<br>‘The men we scorn when we’re alive<br>‘With praise insult our ashes.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Scotty’s ghost said: ‘Never mind<br>‘The fleas that you inherit;<br>‘The living bard can flick them off—<br>‘They cannot hurt his spirit.<br>‘The crawlers round the bardie’s name<br>‘Shall crawl through all the ages;<br>‘His work’s the living thing, and they<br>‘Are fly-dirt on the pages.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408725" data-title="Robbie's Statue de Henry Lawson" data-description="Grown tired of mourning for my sins—
And brooding over merits—
The other night with bothered brow
I went amongst the spirits;
And I met one that I knew well:
‘Oh, Scotty’s Ghost, is that you?
‘And did you see the fearsome crowd
‘At Rob..."></div>
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