A LONG WAY AFTER LORD TENNYSON'S "BROOK."
I'VE spouted o'er the land o' Burns,
I've made a gushing sally,
Although I fear, with true Returns,
My speeches will not tally,
From town to town I've hurried down,
I've talked on hills and ridges;
At railway stations played the clown,
And gabbled from their bridges.
I've chattered over stony ways.