DORIC AND HEATHER

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXII, Issue 19434, 21 October 1925, Page 11

DORIC AND HEATHER

(To the Editor.) Sir, —In two of your recent issues, “Jock Borderer” has been trying to save the heather at the dreadful expense of the “hamely” Doric. No doubt “Jock” means well, but it is more than I can bear as a Scot to observe my mother tongue being dragged in the mire. I. pen this poetic attempt, which, if acceptable to you, you may be able to find space for.—l am, etc., WULL TAMSON. (Enclosure.)

IN DEFENCE O’ THE DORIC. Address Tae Jock Borderer. Jock Borderer, whit ails ye, chi el? Ye lash wae sic poetic zeal, I dinna think ye’re feelin’ wool, This close unsettled weather. For, by the mune and stars abune, Ye’ve let Auld Scotland sadly doon, Tae murder the Doric, ma border loon, In trying to save the heather. Ne’er fash ye’re heid aboot the heather ’Twill flourish still wae a’ their blether, And grow wherever Scotsmen gether, Entwined aroun’ each hert, man, But, the Doric, Jock, ma canty callan, In tae bad grace through you it’s fallan, So cultivate it in ye’re Lallan, Or when oot wae ye’re cairt, man. Anti-heather canna see ye ’re joke, Nae mair can I, ma heid’s like rock, ’Twould tak’ mair than a rousin’ poke Frae men as strong as Samson; So in ye’re next poetic letter, Try English; we may see it better, The Doric muse ye cannot get her, So saith Wullie Tamson.