Ode
to the Long Excursions
by
Muriel Hogarth
with
apologies to MacGonagall
In
Edin's Geological Society
One group has gained
notoriety.
These are the yins that go for a week
Geological knowledge for to seek.
Mony
tak' the week's excursion,
And they don't all
come frae the House of Murchison.
Some come frae
Museum and University Hall
And some come that
ken naething at a'.
So they mak' a motley band,
The envy and pride o' fair Scotland.
They
mak' a study o' maps and plans,
And stravaig
aboot in wee red vans
They ettle tae be awa'
to the hills
To look at rocks, outcrops and sills,
And fissures, cracks and dips and strikes
Anticlines,
synclines, moraines and dykes.
Basalt, granite,
felspar, whin
Fegs! They ken them, ilka yin!
And ye'll aft see queerly clad apparitions
Hammering
awa' in awkward positions!
Ithers
tie labels like Christmas tassels
On all yon
canty, couthy fossils
So that the ignorant may
ken full right
A Brachiopod frae a Trilobite!
Whiles daft gomerils follow behind
And
gawk and gape at these learned minds!
To
go in two groups they arena blate,
Yin the Hard
lot, the ither Sedate.
The Hard make for the
peaks and bens,
The Sedate keep to paths and
glens.
The Hard sprauchle on for hours and hours;
The Sedate stop tae admire the flowers.
What
are they dots on the far horizon?
That's the
Hard lotóit's not surprisin'
While the Sedate
stot on their winsome way
Lucky to do a mile
a day!
Not for the group thae posh
hotels
Wi' schrieching plumbing and reekin' smells,
Faur better in a self-catering house
Arranged
by Hogarth and his spouse.
Mountains o' food
have arrived in kists
Shairly enough to feed
thae geologists.
Ilka yin hae studied Mrs Beeton
So that their food is unco guid for eatin'.
Chicken,
chops and mince and stews
Trifles, fruit, all
sorts of brews.
Soup and cheese and mony a bean
This constitutes Geological Haute Cuisine!
Then
at night in the local pub
They discuss a' their
rocks and grub.
Noo anither excursion
has come to an end
We hope we've all more geology
learned
We hope our leaders are not too wabbit
They've aye been sae gleg and never crabbit.
Rum, Assynt, Mull and Skye
Islay
and noo Arran forbye.
And whaur to next's the
burning question
We're looking to you for any
suggestion.*
I hope you a' feel none the worse
For listening to this littIe verse.
Lang
hae ye listened tae this magnum opus
So here's
my toast, and that's tae -- US!
*The
billet says the long excursion in '83 is Ardnamurchan --Eds
