Treasure Island

Robert William Service

(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958 / Preston)

The Old Armchair


In all the pubs from Troon to Ayr
Grandfather's father would repair
With Bobby Burns, a drouthy pair,
The glass to clink;
And oftenwhiles, when not too "fou,"
They'd roar a bawdy stave or two,
From midnight muk to morning dew,
And drink and drink.

And Grandfather, with eye aglow
And proper pride, would often show
An old armchair where long ago
The Bard would sit;
Reciting there with pawky glee
"The Lass that Made the Bed for Me;"
Or whiles a rhyme about the flea
That ne'er was writ.

Then I would seek the Poet's chair
And plant my kilted buttocks there,
And read with joy the Bard of Ayr
In my own tongue;
The Diel, the Daisy and the Louse
The Hare, the Haggis and the Mouse,
(What fornication and carouse!)
When I was young.

Though Kipling, Hardy, Stevenson
Have each my admiration won,
Today, my rhyme-race almost run,
My fancy turns
To him who did Pegasus prod
For me, Bard of my native sod,
The sinner best-loved of God -
Rare Robbie Burns.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: pride, today, father, joy, god, running

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Old Armchair by Robert William Service )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..
[Hata Bildir]