The Sage of Glasgow
~ I - I Arrive in Glasgow ~
When I arrived in Glasgow town
I knew nary a soul
So tired I's nearly fallin' down
Yet I'd no place to go
I wandered up Buchanan street
In hopes to find a bed
Or e'en a simple mat o' hey
On which to lay my head
Lady Fortune must ha' smiled on me
For as I ambled up the road
An elf-like fellow waved me down, said pray come in
And rest your load
Upon our hearth awhile
Abby, fetch some haddock stew!
For this establishment is meant for weary
Travelers such as you
A dram'll do ye just fine
Let us turn now to converse
I am Seumas MacIntyre
Ye'll no yet heard of me of course
~ II - I Become Acquainted With the Sage ~
My family's been in Glasgow
Since Saint Mungo was a bairn
My Da he was a boatwright
'Twas a trade he had me learn
Aye but I's a restless lad
An' struck out on my own
For nigh on two and twenty years
The wide world did I roam
I've stown away in oxcarts and
Dined with Turkish royalty
I've climbed glaciers o'er in Canada
And sailed the Indian sea
When I returned to Scotland
I'd learnt a thing or two
Would ye hear my admonitions, lad?
Pray, tell them to me true!
~ III - The Sage Imparts Wisdom (As Sages Do) ~
Well first ye see, there's Confidence
Ye must look a man in the eye
And keep your shoulders squarely back
This today's in scant supply
A man's friends are his family
Wherever may he be
Though brothers ye may sorely lack
A true friend's as good to ye
Lastly be not in a rush to
Leave thy mark upon the age
For only two, three, four score years
Have ye wisdom 'nough to wage
~ IV - I Meet Bonny Abigail ~
'Twas about this time a-night
A ruddy girl with auburn hair
Drew upon our table and
Sat down 'side MacIntyre
Now must you so prater on,
She said patting his head
I'm sure our guest is weary
And longs but for his bed
The words she spoke were kindly
Yet she had no Scottish brogue
Miss, are ye not from Glasgow then
If I may be so bold?
You're quite the perceptive one
Replied Abigail
Though I've lived in Scotland half my life
From America I hail
For when I was but a young girl
Not more than ten and three
My dear Papa, a whalin' man
Was lost upon the sea
Having never known my mother
I'd then to make my way alone
Whilst trav'lin' Seumas found me and
Kindly took me to his home
He's like a father to me hence
And in his Inn I serve
Though I've a mind to strike out again
One day if I've the nerve
~ V - Revelry, and I Take My Leave ~
Aye, America lives in ye lass
Spoke Seumas with a grin
A fine proprietor ye'll one day make
Of yer own New England Inn
But the hour has grown late, my dears
And to rest 'tis nearly time
So let us toast one wee dram more
And sing of auld lang syne
We laughed and drank and drank and sang
We merry travelers three
And I thanked my Lord, such friends to meet
Though we must soon part company
On the morrow I set out again and
Bid a fond farewell
To the one true Sage of Glasgow and
The lovely Abigail
Oct. 2, 2017
Copyright © Andrew Jacob Jung | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment