His verse on theatre and street he read, With laughter and derision he was met instead, Of the respect he expected, while reading pompous Clad in Kilt he caused quite a rumpus! He tried once to America to go But on its shores no-one did know Found himself cut loose, culturally cast away His homeward fare a kind stranger did pay His hand in the wound had been Then he knew they did not deceive Happy are we who there have not been But in the Resurrection believe...
Though it is good not to be a fool To seek to prove what you are told, Trust among the Apostles was the rule, In respect and honour each other to hold.
Once fifty miles or more he walked To read verse to the queen: but when he talked To the guardsmen at the gate He was turned away in indignant state To be poet laureate he said he wished to seek, To be told that to try he had a cheek, And he’d better move while still was free, To go as he pleased all the way home to Dundee.
