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Poem by James Clerk Maxwell


Song Of The Edinburgh Academician


If ony here has got an ear,
He'd better tak a haud o me,
Or I'll begin, wi roarin din,
To cheer our old Academy.

Dear old Academy,
Queer old Academy,
A merry lot we were, I wot,
When at the old Academy.

There's some may think me crouse wi drink,
And some may think it mad o me,
But ither some will gladly come
And cheer our old Academy.

Some set their hopes on Kings and Popes,
But, o the sons of Adam, he
Was first, without the smallest doubt,
That built the first Academy.

Let Pedants seek for scraps of Greek,
Their lingo to Macadamize;
Gie me the sense, without pretence,
That comes o Scots Academies.

Let scholars all, both grit and small,
Of Learning mourn the sad demise;
That's as they think, but we will drink
Good luck to Scots Academies. 



James Clerk Maxwell


James Clerk Maxwell's other poems:
  1. Numa Pompilius
  2. In Memory of Edward Wilson, Who Repented of what was in his Mind to Write after Section
  3. Cats Cradle Song, By A Babe In Knots
  4. Report On Tait's Lecture On Force
  5. On St. David's Day


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