Inspirations and Quotations by Tomas O. Carthaigh - HTML preview

What Ails Ye Now? (First Ode to Robert Burns)

Each native youth on reaching age, Before declaring himself a man, Goes in solitude like Christ himself, To prepare for life as best he can. One native youth a mountain he saw, Decided to climb it as a test, And upon reaching its summit cold, Congratulated himself fro his conquest. "What ails ye now?" Words from your pen, When you in the heat of anger basked And boiled as you in retort wrote And the lousy bitches you asked: Those who about others things say, And down upon who look
Would well be told the story Of "Throw the First Stone" from the Good Book.

And then... a rattlesnake he saw, Backed away he did with a start, Though aged it was... and stiff with cold, And looked to have faint heart. It looked as it was nearing its dying days, No, rather was in its dying throes, And to the boy, the snake it spoke... Or so the story goes.
Aye, Burns the sinner who loved the ladies And in sin indulged, enjoyed and was content, But to your God your peace you made In privacy prayed and did repent. Aye, with faults and all God made you, As he did the ladies who caught your eye, With a conscience clear and without fear, I hope to be as you when I die.

Aye, the same as to Eve in Eden, Who was to by a serpent spoken The apple to eat was tempted, And so the promise to God was broken.

This rattlesnake spoke to the boy, And with its roguish charm, Pleaded to be brought down the mountain, If I, who live by others rules, Of godliness and purity,
Shall I find upon my passing Heavens not a surety?
And those whose lifes appeared less pure In heaven shall they be?
For their efforts futile at being good

And it would do him no harm. Were more in earnest than the successful ones of me?

 

After stalling for a while, What ails me now? I am the fool So the story's told, Or at least I play the part,

The boy, or good heart or bad sense, I live my life, maybe don't live at all, Lifted the snake from the ground cold. Live by what others say, not my heart. And so safe the rattlesnakes life, Those lousy bitches who declare, Or try to at least he might, To me how to lead my life,

And in return he'd save his own May God cast you to the eternal fire, As the rattler promised not to bite. For causing me such strife.

And descending down the mountain, Snake wrapped in warm buffalo hide, Of the shirt that up the mountain he had worn The snake slept soundly inside,