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This was the Oration written and presented by Club Bard, Willie Shanks,
at the annual supper on Saturday 23rd January 1976.
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Wha is this man ? the priests hae speared,
Wha has a talkin’ art,
He has nae wealth, he has nae gear,
For folk to entice tae pairt.
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Tae come wi’ him, and harkin tae,
His simple beck and ca’
And follow in his gentle way.
Tae journey faur awa.
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Twas just that he could see the need,
O’ guidance and o’ care,
The puir, the helpless and the aged,
and folk that’s trauchled sair.
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It didnae tak’ a gilded steed,
or wealth, or silken goon,
Tae mak’ the folk tae worship him,
Nor yet a golden croon.
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He gaed hungry, mony a winter’s morn,
Or parched in simmer’s son,
Tae help the stricken get their feet,
The Lord, wha’s God’s dear Son.
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This man we honour here this nicht,
A disciple, ye may say,
Wi’ pen, he left ahin his word,
Tae follow in his way.
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Hypocrisy, the Kirk he flayed,
Cruel, creeds he scorned,
Thru’ the years his name they cursed,
For sair they felt the thorn,
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The rich he flayed, who turned oot,
Drive frae their cot and kye,
The puir bit bodies, scarce o’ cash,
and let them starve or die.
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He let us ken in pen and ink
As we in knowledge grow,
The injustice tae the puir lang sine,
The annals of the low.
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He never gained in wordly wealth,
But like the Lord above,
They struggled sair tae show mankind,
The brotherhood of Love.