A Burns-esque poem that spouted into a song by myself and Lonnie Glass. Mike Kropotkin does a great arrangement and all the instrumentation.

Burnt Doun (by Norman Ball)

Oh nae mair leaves need seegnifee a tree
'cept widden words tae fall frae me.
Mah makary* will nou suffice.
Sae see yese play roun' real nice.

Frae birk tae elm tae sprush tae pine
I've sned** the firth*** doun tae ane**** line.
Nou sycophant, nae sycamore,
mopes roun' aboot the firth's deid floor.
That greenhoose gas can bleeze in hell.
Tis rotten science, fir's as I can tell.


* poetry
** pruned, cleared
*** forest
**** one