Robert Burns launches his boot on a wintry morning at a too early prize cockerel.
The Scottish Word:

Pouthery.

Excerpt from the Robert Burns’ poem: A Winters Night.

…Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down,
Feel not a want but what yourselves create,

Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate,
Whom friends and fortune quite disown!
Ill-satisfy’d keen nature’s clamorous call,
Stretch’d on his straw, he lays himself to sleep;
While through the ragged roof and chinky wall,
Chill, o’er his slumbers, piles the drifty heap!

Think on the dungeon’s grim confine,
Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine!
Guilt, erring man, relenting view,
But shall thy legal rage pursue
The wretch, already crushed low
By cruel Fortune’s undeserved blow?

Affliction’s sons are brothers in distress;
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!

I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer
Shook off the pouthery snaw,
And hail’d the morning with a cheer,
A cottage-rousing craw.
But deep this truth impress’d my mind-
Thro’ all His works abroad,
The heart benevolent and kind
The most resembles God.

Translation:

pouthery: powdery.

ˈpuðərɪ

Who cares.

“The heart benevolent and kind
The most resembles God.”

The homeless forced to beg and reduced to food banks and the non rich without affordable healthcare in two of the wealthiest countries in the world.

Those who claim to rule and be nearest God should judge themselves by their labours, their deeds and non deeds.

I despair.

The poem by Robert Burns: The Winter’s Night in full here.

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