True, but sometimes you can be personally clean but the little critters hitchike on you. Head lice don’t care about how dirty or clean your head is. Don’t know if these guys are like that. I fail to see how we can keep ‘em off our shores.
Simple, Oink. Don’t let the bipedal visitors bring their pets.
I suspect it’s the people—we are already more careful about protecting our animals from communicable disease.
I didn’t mean that kind of pets, Oink. I meant the kind that are illustrated above.
Ha! whare ye gaun’ ye crowlin ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace,
Tho faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.
I always thought of you as a louse, Bobby.
It was as close as I could get for the occasion. I didn’t think that “Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,” was appropriate.
And I meant to say his poetry is lousy.
(Kerr & OINK sit rapt, watching a spider attempting spin its web for the sixth time. They gather encouragement that they will learn to express themselves properly one day. The spider gives up in disgust.)
Peotry is a matter of taste, I suppose, and I’m not qualified to judge. It’s not something that I ... er ... fully appreciate.
I do like the last stanza of that poem, though:
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us
An foolish notion:
What airs in dress an gait wad lea’es us,
An ev’n devotion!
A great verse and so true. I considered Burns’ style to be Ebonics dressed in kilts.