The time and date is:
6:07 am Friday, 20 October 2017
* Home

Sections
* Ballads
* Ballad Features
* Burns
* McGonagall
* Other Poetry
* Scottish Writers
* Scots Glossary

Poets
* Alphabetical List
* Featured List

Poems
* List of Topics

Songs
* Scottish Songs
* Modern Songs

Submissions
* Submit a Poem
* Submit a Song

Policies
* Copyright
* Permission
* Privacy
* Standards

Web Links
* Other Sites

Contact
* About Us
* E-mail Us

First: The Word ©

Ray MacRae
New South Wales, Australia
1991

On the seventh day he rested,well he did for most the morn.
For it was during the afternoon the poets and writers were born.

They wrote about creation and all that sprung from that.
They have been recording ever since in terms of beauty, subtlety and black.

History is, His story told. It keeps us well informed,
of how our forebears lived their lives and when we should be warned.

Some writers have the talent to see around the bend
Their readers are so very few, but those their lives they mend.

Many writers have just one art, so musicians came to be
To sing the words the poets wrote, to spice our lives with glee.

Mankind toils against their wills though they know it must be done.
Surely a little gladness now and then, it is good to have some fun.

The writers, singers, and musicians all come to act as one
to push away the clouds and help reveal the sun.

He knew we would need cheering as we used the lives He gave,
so He made these special people to give us comfort before the grave.

And the welcoming committee when we finally make the grade
in words and song and music will explain why we were made.


Web Site by IT-SERVE © 1999 - 2017 All Rights Reserved Return to top