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The Sang ©

A certain Mr Robert Burns in Conversation with Mr Moose.

Jim McRobert
Edinburgh, Scotland

The Moose
It was whilst I was in my comfy chair
That of voice of Rabbie's I became aware
I heard his voice from a long way off
He sounded like a silly toff
As he steadied the plough from behind the horse
His voice was not clear, it sounded coarse
Along the furrow he did stride
And this song he did sing, he did sing with pride

My love she has a red, red hoose
An' the windaes they are painted puce
Her cheeks they look the same
Aye a know she's a lovely dame

Excuse me Rabbie, says me the moose
That song yer singing is a poor excuse
I've heard from folks about the land
That you're well known as a rhyming man
If that song you are singing is you at your best
It will put a strain on your love
And you're good name to the test
I'm sure if you don't change it proper
Your talented name will come a cropper

Whit is that yur sae-in Moose, aboot ma sang
Did yi think it's jist rhymin' rang
Dae yi naw know am a classic rhymer
Aye keen tae be a social climber
Tae parade the streets lik Walter Scott
Mak ma wirds a'll get the lot.

Well says me, this little Moose
As I stand at the door of my wee hoose
If that is the best of your love rhyme
There's no chance for you to Social climb
And, if your Love she hears that tune
You'll surely be a loveless lad very soon

Whit a bout a different rhyme
To make your lass feel so sublime
Em. Let me give it a little thought
Maybe offer the words you sought

Here try this
am share she'll think it worthy o' a kiss

My Love is like a Red, Red rose
That's newly sprung in June
My love is like the melody
That's sweetly played in tune

Does that not sound a better sang?

Aye Moosie it's no far rang
The wirds yiv goet fir this sweet sang
Noo whit aboot anither line
Yir taa-kin tae this jist fine

As fair art you, my bonnie lass
So deep in love am I
And I will love thee still my dear
Till all the seas gang dry.

Now my lad I'll hear your turn
You'll surely make my stomach churn

Till aw the seas gang dry, ma dear
And the rocks melt wi the sun
An I will love thee still my dear
While the sands o' life shall run

I think your getting the hang of it
You understand my type of wit
Let me hear a wee bit more
With a wee bit thought your words will pore

An fare yi weel ma only love
And fare yi weel a while
An a will come again ma love
Tho it were ten thousand mile

Dae yi think ma love will like this sang
Or Moose, did it sound aw rang

I am sure if you just write it down
It will level off that lumpy sound
And your Love will think you great
And with a bit of luck those heads of state.

Now, can I get some peace around here?
Not singing songs that hurt my ear
And get that muckle horse away
I think this will do your work today.

Well Mr Moose whit can a sae
I raise ma hat tae you this day
An whin a pass the big grain bin
A'll pocket some, fir yer ain wee tin.

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