(Difficult to describe, but this was a surprise greeting to some American visitors. Best to look up The Burry Man and all will be revealed).
In Midlothian where hearts run high
amidst uncertain August warmth,
they travel soon from far and wide
to laugh and blot their copybooks.
It’s time to change the kegs for sure
and light a welcome flame here,
come Jennifer and Joseph’s brood
the cloaked man draws nigh.
With burdock wrap and floral stave
hark to this ferry fair,
he seeks your evils to collect,
your ale to quench a thirst.
Whilst children hide their countenance
none heed his blackened gaze,
for every year the burrs do tear
cut deep in sacrifice.
So draw your nibs across the page
and write of happy mirth some,
in coloured inks scratch hurriedly
and do the bloody work.
© Graham Sherwood 8/2009
