Perhaps the fact that she herself was a “Pisplikan just now and a Prisbeteren at Kercaldy, my native town, which though dirty is clein in the country,” made her more tolerant than others of her nation:
“For they her faith could not well bear
And to upbraid her they would dare.”
Marjorie did not always keep to these “Epic Heights.” Her muse is sometimes occupied with such subjects as the death of three young turkeys eaten by the rats, the elopement of Jessy Watson the servant maid, and her aunt’s monkey:
“There is a thing I love to see
That is our monkey catch a flee.”
Indeed her latest biographer opines that the lament for the three turkeys will become the most famous of Marjorie’s poems:
“Three turkeys fair their last have breathed
And now this world for ever leaved