Scottish Poetry Selection
- A Song of Paradise

Here is a poem by Isobel W Hutchison about an old person who is not too sure about going to Heaven - and meeting folk she would rather not come across again!

A Song of Paradise

I'm an auld body, noo, an' dune,
No fit for muckle mair
Than juist tae sit an' mind the fire
An' watch the glory there
Burn doon an' gaither on the ribs
An' fa' into the pan,
An' aye I think it's like the spark
That's in the breist o' man.

The minister comes ben at whiles
An' talks tae me o' God.
He's a weel-meanin', canty lad,
An' yet I canna haud
Wi a' he says. There's some that's gane
(The Lord forgie!) I tell
Ye I had liefer see again
Than even God Himsel'.

An' yet there's some I'm sweir tae think
I'll come across up there!
My guid-sister was ane o' these
(In spite o' a' her care!)
I aye keep hopin' (though it's wrang!),
If she's got slippin' ben,
They'll let me oot anither way
An' doon the stair again!

They say there's mony mansions there,
An' weel I hope it's meant,
I wadna like tae find masel'
Shut up wi' a' I've kent!
I'm no for harps or golden croons,
I've tried tae dae my best,
An' syne I've trusted Paradise
Wad be a place o' rest.

Sae whiles at nicht I watch the fire
An' in the ashes fa'
I think I see the wee cot hoose
Where a' the bairns were sma'.
The water lippin' on the shore,
The kirk upon the rise -
I dinna want a mansion, Lord,
Wi' that for Paradise.

Meaning of unusual words:
muckle mair=a lot more

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