Part II: Crime and Punishment
Weel Adam, Earth’s first Democrat,
The leaf replaced wi Welcome mat
An easy access under that
Could never miss,
An Eve an him could then begat
An f’und it bliss.
But God’s perception o His scheme,
O aw God’s ploys, the very cream,
Wis no as guid as it wid seem
When tried in life;
For Practice often sows the Theme
Wi seeds o strife.
An strife grew tae a murd’rous heid
As passions, that in faimlies breed,
When fed by jealousy an greed
An Cain killed brither Abel deid
In bluidy clash.
Thus Man, fresh risen frae the mud,
Wis cursed an stained wi Abel’s bluid
That, taintin growth still in the bud,
Reduced his worth,
An God gerred rise an awfu Flood
Tae cleanse the Earth.
In savin best the Earth haud got
And there begat an mair promote
The Lord haud Noah build a boat
Where aw wid bide,
As roond the Earth the Ark wid float
Till floods subside.
Thus, efter forty days o rain
That covered aw the world again
So’s naethin livin wid remain
An aw wis dark,
God haud submerging waters drain
Frae roond the Ark.
When Noah drove the beasts ashore
The Lord saw they’d begat galore
Like Japhet, Shem an Ham afore
The waters eased,
An wi this chance tae plan restore
Wis very pleased.
But sadly, though He’d made it plain,
When sendin aw thae days o rain,
He didnae want nae sin again
Tae wreck His plans,
Auld Satan did disciples gain
In idle hans.
Punishment the Flood presages
Differs doon through ither ages.
Diseases, plagues, in aw their stages
When the wars that mankind wages
Casts God aside.
Aw through the world frae then till noo
There’s madness in what peoples do
As De’il brews up his evil stew
An sinners get their merits due
When stewpot biles.
Part I In the Beginning Scotland Forever: A History in 10 Parts
Facebook page for Christie Grahame
Sometimes I wonder – is there going to be another asteroid strike? And is it all going to begin again? Will whatever survives, make a better job of it? Are we a cosmic experiment? I’m not saying we are! I’m just saying that I do wonder.
Personally, I hope to see the trees we’ve planted, at least grow to some size. There’s so much good here, but sometimes, I can’t help thinking, we need a good clear-out!
Just can’t help thinking – that’s my problem!
A poem by friend Marty. He read it out at a poetry group, and I had bad drams for days afterwards. He’s a good poet. A bit bloody miserable, but a good poet!
The Amazing Mosquito Migration
We are to the world,
Crawling over the body,
Sucking the life blood
From the land.
Covering the world in woes.
Forgetting our place
Still we seek further
Victims, we spread
Our filth to the seas.
Then we look to the stars,
We rape the Moon,
Then travel to Mars.
Leaving behind our first
Victim; stone dead,
Covered in scars.
Yet, we look on,
Deep into space.
Maybe I should point out that ‘Grief’ is Marty’s surname – that’s not an exclamation at the end of the poem!
And his name has it’s origin in the French Huguenots who came to Britain, many years ago, escaping religious persecution.
Well, well, well,
Plus ca change.