The author of this is Duncan Mor from Lennox. [155]
Pity the man who lost his voice, When he is called on to recite, Who cannot speak so fast as needs be, And yet’s unwilling to give up. Who cannot sing an air or tune, And cannot well recite a lay. Who cannot put aside his harp, Yet cannot sing as he would wish. Pity him ever with his “dring, drang,” Trying his verses to recite, When men can neither hear his harp, Nor understand the songs he sings. Pity the man neglects his health, And strives not his vigour to retain. Pity the man who ever strives To have the fruit he cannot reach. Were I to wish to have such fruit, Fruit which I could not reach on high, I’d cut the tree down at the root, Let men be angry if they will. Pity.