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The New Tool

An obscure bit of probable Burns poetry, "discovered" for Mel's Burns Night party, 2008.

Well, it's the rhyming pattern he prefers (there's probably a proper name for it, but it's the syllable/rhyme pattern of 8A 8A 8A 4B 8A 4B). It uses less in the way of Scots words than is usual for him, but then verse 3 may explain why. And it's unfinished....

Sometimes to write I lack the will
When from the bottle ink doth spill
The box yields but a broken quill
My thought I lose
Sich mundane tasks my mind must fill
This foils the Muse

So when a salesman, keen and bright
Accosts me on a Friday night
And wishes me to see the light
Of his new tool
The ale is guid: he may be right
I am a fule.

But what avail, to tell me how
I should spell? I ken, I trow
More words than this beast will allow
T'would suit me fine
If I should ne'er more see, I vow
Red underline

I'll throw the damn thing in the brook
Ill health to him from whom I took
This cursed device that wrecks each book
(and there it breaks off)


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