Once there lived a Scotsman Whose years nobody knew Who was seen by all in town
And known by very few. For men, for loners such as he Were left that way... alone... Scorn and pity and indifference By the townspeople to him was shown.
This Scotsman was nobody None knew from where he came Bar the obvious. from Scotland... Few even knew his name. And the children in the dusty streets Making song of him... the sang For he was also a simple sort Who spoke in Scottish slang.
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This poem is inspired by the words of Bono as recounted by Mick Wall in his book "Bono". who was tired of churning out more of the same music, while it was good it still was boring for him.
Its as if someone has eat too many chocolates ... suddenly they're beginning to feel ill as they look at all the papers around the room."
The lesson I see from this is that over indulgence in life or a part of it, leads us to feel sick of life, or tired of it, and it may be this that leads us to be so unhappy causing our social problems, while those who really have life hard appreciate it when things become good if only for a while, and so are happy and smiling
Too many chocolates have been enjoyed, As you look at their wrappers around the room scattered,
As nothing in life seems important right now, At this moment nothing else mattered... And all unknowing of him went About their business from day to day None spoke of him when he was not seen Bar the children when at play "Where is Mad Jock, the Scotsman: By this way he has not walked, So we get to mock no more" So of him the children talked.
Some months passed until one day A burglar an open door spied It looked an easy job, he thought As an escape route he eyed. But upon entering the house He did not rob, but instead, Stopped to mouth a silent prayer As he found Mad Jock rotted and dead.
For living for now is the new way,
Live only for now and to excess,
Think not of tomorrow or yesterday,
And though long passed to the other side God to love him never ceased To pray for the passing of his mortal soul, God sent the burglar... not the priest. "For God was with him at his end,
Wise words of Bono, written one day, Of how his music needed to be re-inspired, By a sound and a vibe and by something new, For of all that there was he was tired.
Too much of a good thing is not good at all, After a while it all seems the same, Like the kid in the kitchen who too many chocolates ate, That we cant enjoy them now: we are too blame. As the cortege passed by the a house... Once there lived a Scotsman.