O Thistle

O Thistle...O Thistle,
You came here...all armed.
And to see you so prickly,
Makes me so alarmed.

You are ready for battle,
Your armour is tight.
Your front foot is forward,
To put up a fight.

No one can confuse you,
You have your own power.
Your keen-eye is set,
And you stand by the hour.

You grow by a brother,
That is not so strong-willed.
And you sip of his moisture,
Where he is not skilled.

O Thistle...O Thistle,
No patriot are you.
You are a fraud to society,
In the place where you grew.


E.P. 1908 - 1989