To A Clam By Rabbie Burns National Poet Of Scotland

Rabbie Burns walks up to the stage, shrewdness in all his lineaments. His eye, of a dark cast, glowing with intelligence. Never have the poets seen such another eye in a human head.

Or so he thinks. He is a little under the weather, as we know.

But this will only serve to help him to extemporise.

He flicks a careless curl from his brow, caresses a straining button and stands in a thoughtful pose, which sets off the curve of his calf muscles nicely, before beginning.

Kobo has stopped breathing. Ageless is fuming.

To A Clam That Has Lately Become Immortal  (declaims the national poet)

Wee clammie ye were once a man
No fear ye
Ye still have power of a man
I hear ye

Awa' now wi' your puny lover
'Clare ye!
And come awa' now wi' another
Dare ye?

Ye need no' me a clumpin' poet
Tae spare ye
Sin ye are makit o' fossil stone
No wear ye

All we who dwell here i' the mirk
Compare ye
Tae us ye now immortal are
God fare ye.

Rabbie bows, and walks back to his seat to mild applause.

Was he taking the piss? Nobody knows. But Kobo who has understood hardly a word, is certain that she has been paid a once-in-a-lifetime compliment.

That was so-o-o LOVELY, she whispers to Ageless.

That was bollocks, spits Ageless lobster, puny lover.