The real Rabbie
I first met Rabbie
when we were eight,
scarpering down our street,
barefoot, cold
and looking back laughing,
raging Mammy after him
like a shambling sack o’ tatties,
headmaster strap in hand:
“c’mere ye wee bastart!”
I loved him immediately.
Then that time we had stolen beans
pen-knifed out the tin,
two slices of Mother’s Pride
with no butter, no heat,
except for the mischievous sun
on his face:
when I fell for the bairns
of the whole human race.
14/1/23
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Author:
FrasMac (
Offline) - Published: September 14th, 2026 00:21
- Comment from author about the poem: I grew up and still live in Ayrshire, not far from where the Scots bard, Robert "Rabbie" Burns was born and raised. His fame is everywhere around here. But growing up, I knew another Rabbie, with whom I went on to have many adventures. Here's his introduction to my life.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
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Comments3
This write is sweet mother earth from which all life grows. Dirt plane and gritty but the foundation of all else. It has a mischievous but at the same time child innocence to it that warms the heart. Nicely told in short metered lines that warm the heart lined in memories. Well done a fave
Much appreciated!
My pleasure my friend
Good to have friends that take us to high places! 🙏🏻🕊️
Aye, after the low ones, right enough!
From your accompanying comments it is pretty obvious that the laughter in the face of adversity did not die, and if he should turn up in similar fun verse, I shall be pleased to welcome him.
Thanks Dave, I'm thinking he might do just that!
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