since no song unto poland, where sing and to whom if not scotland?! for where else my home?! but now i, in abandonment of freedom nearly grasped, in the white shadow of william's tower: residing in the nearing end of london - so that fox and crow might know my name and fellowship of un-abandoned gemini, each thought has become a memory for each rhapsody of an imagine you carved into me - yet why the madness of a Finnish lass wandering the Cow Gate street looking for a boyfriend, and why not a girl of firm root to teach me to stay put?*

i count my life a life
before i succumbed
to this ****-wit platform
of the alt. t.v.,
and there my blank canvas
was black, rather than this
white.. there i merged
nimble crab with hardy
nimble oyster... and there
the waves, and there scotland,
a dream beyond irish catholicism
within england of being schooled...
and there scotland!
o dream, o dreams! let me venture
back there! but i know you
will refuse me the grant of such
a wish... then let us ease heart an hearts
with a constant striving for labour,
and whether labour acknowledged
or disavowed as important
so that the supposedly noble-chaste
can battle with opinions rather than
with an eager man's axe to topple them!
am i too to not dream of a higher woman
keeping leverage of the women before
me watching in earnest a safe home
provided by a mule or an idiot or a banker?
but i rather dream, than be among such
rot of the oaken bark with stench
than makes me all the more eager to depart!
O Scotland! each night i claw off my face
in hope of seeing yorick, my youthful dream
of a song i kept to keep me youthful in memory,
and that platter of haggis, neeps and tatties
with a sucker of whiskey drenching the meats.