Reply To “A.K.B.B.”

Reply To “A.K.B.B.”

My dear Miss “A.K. o’ B.B.”
Believe me, if yer can,
That since I read yer splendid poem
I feel a prooder man.

I thoucht perhaps I cud reply,
An’ bak it bit by bit,
But sune, alas, I realised
I wuz nae really fit.

Hooiver, please accept my thanks,
Poor pye I own these times,
Fur yer kind sentiments express’d
Anent my “Random Rhymes.”

Although the book is takin’ weel,
Despite its local phraise,
I hardly juist can let it in
That it’s a perfect craze.

Odd yins av coarse wha’ ir displeas’d
Ir welcome tae dae better,
Fur ‘lang as ye ir pleas’d yersel’
It daes nae sae much metter.

Though egotistic in my style,
As through the muse I slither,
I niver try lift yin up
By knockin’ doon anither.

Al’ those wha read my yarns please min’
I’m just a country spinner,
A mortal man wae monie faults,
Like ivery ither sinner.

Bit tae the piece ye spotted oot,
An’ has under yer e’e
Wha knows some day may turn intae
A methermonial spree.

Yer qualities ir man-i-fold,
O’ which yer poem lood rings,
An’ angel surely unaware,
Wae true poetic wings.

Ye state my blateness is nae fault,
Fur yer no faced al roon;
I find’ that those wae yin square face
Ir aft the warst tae spoon.

Although yer face in ony crowd
Wud pass an’ pass again,
Indeed I’m led just noo tae think
That yours is nae wye plain.

Yer hair is neither fair nor foul,
An’ fine as iver grew,
I cannie guess its colour, miss,
Except, perhaps, its blue.

Yer neither auld, nur young, ye vouch,
Juist somewhat in between,
But fit tae keep the water het,
An’ hearthstane nice an’ clean.

Yer e’en juist like the glencin’ sun,
The clearest iver shon’,
An’ understandin’ very great,
An’ something tae stan’ on.

At which thir lies this present year
The proposition bal’,
That ye may kick tae ony goal,
An’ catch yer uncatched pal.

Though prospect o’ a ferm remote,
Ur scant yer wurdly brass,
An honest lass is queen o’ queens,
Inside ur oot the Press.

As far as I can see juist noo,
I think that you shud dae,
Only I wud nae guarintee
Tae mak’ the drap o’ tay.

Kindly explain hoo fower mak’s five,
As I furget that rule,
Sae monie years hae noo elaps’d
Since I was at the school.

So, if yer half o’ what ye say,
An’ mabie, sang, yer better,
I’ll wish tae hear frae you real sune,
By wurds o’ mouth ur letter.

“Young Nummer.”
26th January 1912

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