To Poet McGonagall

Oh! thou great poet, wha never can
Be equalled by anither man,
Altho’ I dinna understan’
Thy gushin’ lays,
I sit me doon, wi’ pen in han’,
To soun’ thy praise.

Ye Scottish bardies, ane an a’,
Oor famous poet’s praises blaw;
His verses are withoot a flaw —
McGonagall;
They are the best I ever saw
In the Journal,

But, Willie, if ye’d win the game,
An’ share wi’ Burns the poet’s fame.
Oh! never, never put your name
In public print;
I needna speak, it’s aye the same,
Ye tak’ nae hint.

Keep a’ your verses till you dee,
Then, I’ve nae doot, they’ll published be.
An’ syne the warl’ wide will see
Ye were bard.
An’ yeur sweet sangs, owre land and sea,
Will then be heard.

J. S. P. T.

People’s Journal, 14th June 1879

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