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A random choosing...you know, that little game we humans play with books where we open them and hope to find something interesting.
But it does make me smile a bit because it seems a bit appropriate. Following are some lines from Epistle to J. Lapraik, An Old Scotch Bard (1785), by the Bard, of course:
I am nae Poet, in a sense,
But just a Rhymer like by chance,
An hae to Learning nae pretence,
Yet, what the matter?
When'er my Muse does on me glance,
I jingle at her.
Your Critic-folk may cock their nose,
And say, 'How can you e'er propose,
You wha ken hardly verse frae prose,
To mak a song?'
But by your leaves, my learned foes,
Ye're maybe wrang.
What's a your jargon o your Schools,
Your Latin names for horns an stools;
If honest Nature made you fools,
What sairs your Grammers?
Ye'd better taen up spades and shools,
Or knappin-hammers.
A set o dull, conceited Hashes,
Confuse their brains in Colledge-classes!
They gang in Stirks, and come out Asses,
Plain truth to speak;
An syne they think to climb Parnassus
By dint o Greek!
Gie me ae spark o Nature's fire,
That's a the learning I desire;
Then tho I drudge thro dub an mire
At pleugh or cart,
My Muse, tho hameley in attire,
May touch the heart....
But MAUCHLINE Race or MAUCHLINE Fair,
I should be proud to meet you there;
We'se gie ae night's discharge to care,
If we forgather,
An hae a swap o rhymin-ware,
Wi ane anither....
Of course, those of us that have the Muse and Nature's fire, but not enough money to pay for time to confuse our brains in colledge classes must content ourselves with Rabbie's sentiments, but we will always wonder where we could've gotten if we had been able to come out Asses.
After all, one needs a degree to climb Mount Parnassus. It matters not if honest Nature made you a fool, as long as your Grammar is good enough to hide behind.
(side note: the spellcheck on Blogger doesn't believe the contraction "could've" exists! How very interesting.)
image: Shakespeare (Chandos), full of Nature's fire, hamely in attire, mystifies mountain climbers.