A Rebuke tae tha Poocher
A met an oul fermer wae a face lake a lantern
As A wus trevillin roon aboot North Antrim,
Saes he, "Ir ye tha Poocher wha writes yer Rhymes
Fae week tae week in tha Bellymoney Times".
Saes I, "Heth that A am", an reached oot for his han,
But A cud see me bein there wus mair than he cud stan,
A jest thocht tae masel whut A micht hae dane
But deed it wusnae lang tae he did explain.
Saes he, "Is fermers dinnae tak tha Big Kat licht
An aff coorse you toon yins aye think yersels richt,
For yersel an Garry Bogus, tha Hunter an tha lake,
Wud bae better if yese wud jest button yer bake.
For tak it frae me if yese kent onything ava
Yese wud shut yer big mooths if ye velue yer ja,
For wur tha fermers wha if loasin oor sheep
An its is an naw youse that's een niver sleep."
Sae wae that A slid aff wae mae kep in mae han
For tae me it wus wise whun still able tae stan,
For A think A hae larnt thon fermers naw slow
An maesel a'll ony write aboot sumthin‚ A know.
by 'Tha Poocher'
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