A Scotsman To Fiji
p. 80 · Read in the full issue
1F I could woo my muse aright, To Fiji I’d some lines indite, And lilt her praise wi’ a’ my might That all may ken.
Vouchsafe, Oh Mus-. a little light, And guide my psn!
When sturdy Tasman found Fiji He little thought, in days to be, Here Scots would come their weird to dree— A gift from heaven!
And spread abroad in this braid sea, Their precious leaven.
And teach a race o’ graceless loons, if 1 ' e using porridge spoons, ° towns— m in ClaUh frae Scottish For they’ve nae breeks!
The lassies—they just wore festoons O native leeks!
W hflls m6 ’ nae heather fires N rills S ' PeCkled tr ° Ut Sport in the At gamin’ fa’ nae lapwing shrills a . Aoove the corn: And—worst of a’—nae whisky stills The glens adorn!
But here are shining sapphire spas Soft sunlight and the green of trees’
And, over all. the sea-borne breeze N Croons out its song!
N tlase ’ 1136 Snow - the senses The whole year long.