I received this new poem from John last week. It is not a Traveler's Tale but it is of the same genre. I hope you enjoy this. - poetheart 04/12/03
A vision. Aye! a vision-
Of how things ought to be,
Alas, I lack the power,
To make them so. You see?
Who am I? do ye question?
Hoot, mon! an' dinna ye ken..
I am the ghost o' Christmas past
An' a' that's ever been.
Ah, at the pass o' Glencoe-
Where Scottish bluid ran red...
Ah, Charlie wi' his folly
It's long ago been said..
I've worn the somber tartan
Of yon Black Watch, y'see?
When bagpipes are a shrillin'
In the front rank ye'll find me.
With musketoon, or claymore-
Or H&K assault,
The Scotsmen rise to danger
Their courage not at fault..
An' me, it is a bard I am-
Last of a lonely breed-
Who tell the tales, and sing the songs
The world will never heed.
Puir Rabbie, an' his haggis
Puir Tam an' his last dram-
Puir me, wi' all me tales to tell
They make me what I am.
Ye'll never hurt my feelin's
If you dinna call fer more-
I bear the blood of Highlanders
A lonely troubador
by John R. Yaws