His unmarked grave…a
But Burns himself would put that right.
It took one, who knows to know another,
A great Scots bard…a poet brother.
His life was short …unfair
Forestalled advance to Scottish treasure.
One slim volume did time permit,
Poetic guile…wicked wit.
He chose native tongue
when not the fashion,
A Scottish brogue for Scottish passion.
A shining light …a true Scots beacon,
In poets church…"A High Archdeacon."
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