For the missing and gone

A poem for the missing and gone

Connie, Terence, Tom and Will
To this day missing they are still
Against their will trapped to fulfill
Auld Clootie's sizzling grill

And when he comes aye on that day
Each fifty years for the wretched pay
Should there be no stolen booty
A ferlie's bacon stakes auld Clootie

Mischievous folklore tho' no tale sore
His servants bid his will and more
And if no traveller have they for he
Will fry instead a startled tot ferlie

To spy this so with one's own eyes
A ferlie squashed and no, no lies
Is something like what Rymor got
Was not a thing that he had sought

Their be no coincidence
When people missing so go hence
On dates a match no doubt a hatch
To lure, ambush and then to snatch

The traveller wary of no such ill
Treads upon a ferlie hill
And just like Kirk, told to this day
Fell into a state of apoplexy

No memories of it should they return
To make the sternest stomach churn
But rather that and to know not
What other fate it might have brought

And all the others perhaps dead
Who with no grave to lay their head
Have pray found peace another way
So too dear sweet Elizabeth O Pray

The minds of men have we
But Djinn of something other
When once there sat upon the sky
What might have been another

A padre poss', cloud hat stock still
O'er a paddock weil cattled hill
The black horse sat by earnestly
On firmament blue temperately

And when he rears the wicked day
To bear the souls that went astray
Instead of second hand booty
Prefers fresh meat does auld clootie

The ferlies breathe sighs of relief
And go about their eldritch work
But weil they know in spite of toil
Awaits but mire and murk

To pray therefore is our sole due
The safe reunion of all those who
Lost or missing we love the most
Dear Father, Son and Holy Ghost

JM Ippolito.

Written on 27/5/2021 the day of my dog Daisy's tenth birthday.

15:38pm