Been a while since I've wanted to post anything long enough to merit more than a Facebook status update, but today is Burns Night, and tomorrow I go on a course to teach me how to use Microsoft Word properly
So, here's something I "found" a few years back, that seems to be the result of Rabbie meeting something very similar.
Sometimes to write I lack the will
When from the bottle ink doth spill
The box yields but a broken quill
My thought I lose
Sich mundane tasks my mind must fill
This foils the Muse
So when a salesman, keen and bright
Accosts me on a Friday night
And wishes me to see the light
Of his new tool
The ale is guid: he may be right
I am a fule.
But what avail, to tell me how
I should spell? I ken, I trow
More words than this beast will allow
T'would suit me fine
If I should ne'er more see, I vow
I'll throw the damn thing in the brook
This entry was cross-posted from my Dreamwidth account.
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Ill health to him from whom I took
This cursed device that wrecks each book
(and there it breaks off)