Thoughts on AN ARCANE INHERITANCE

5 thoughts on “Thoughts on AN ARCANE INHERITANCE

  1. I always thought first names like Hudson were a bit queer not being last names.

    Maybe we can rewrite this tome as a lawsuit with federal funds pulled from a demolished east wing to make it palatable!

    They freaked off my health insurance too!

    At least TCU beat USC!

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      1. HAPPY NEW YEARS 2026 to my lady!

        and your wonderful father as well!

        We survived another and will get stronger, smarter, and more cunning than them!

        Toast Robert Burns & Sir Walter Scott tonight …

        ”On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.

        Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,

        O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!

        Thou need na start awa sae hasty,

                  Wi’ bickerin brattle!

        I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee

                  Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

        I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion

        Has broken Nature’s social union,

        An’ justifies that ill opinion,

                  Which makes thee startle,

        At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,

                  An’ fellow-mortal!

        I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;

        What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!

        A daimen-icker in a thrave

                  ’S a sma’ request:

        I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,

                  An’ never miss ’t!

        Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!

        It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!

        An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,

                  O’ foggage green!

        An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,

                  Baith snell an’ keen!

        Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,

        An’ weary Winter comin fast,

        An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,

                  Thou thought to dwell,

        Till crash! the cruel coulter past

                  Out thro’ thy cell.

        That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble

        Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!

        Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,

                  But house or hald,

        To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,

                  An’ cranreuch cauld!

        But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,

        In proving foresight may be vain:

        The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

                  Gang aft agley,

        An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

                  For promis’d joy!

        Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!

        The present only toucheth thee:

        But Och! I backward cast my e’e,

                  On prospects drear!

        An’ forward tho’ I canna see,

                  I guess an’ fear!

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