OWED TO ROBERT

 A pome by William McGonagall (deceased).

Oh Robert the bard from Moera I owe this ode to thee.

Tho' I be passed I know thou hast kept a memory of me -

In your pomes and in your heart that's stout and with no doubt -

Believeth in our blessed Lord whose greatness, not unlike our own Great Ness -

Who dwelleth in our lochs like in our hearts bring light to unbelievers.

Oh Robert, thou slayer of atheists who have no sound arguments and 

Imagine their beginnings to be imaginary, you sound out like Joshua's trumpet -

To ears that, like minds, are clos-ed.

I bow to thee great Robert and wish ye well in your verse and I curse those who -

Mock me as your mentor and you as my augmenter.