Alfred Edward Emslie, English
“I Apologize — I Don’t Know How He Got in Here. We’ve Already Had the Place Sprayed Twice For Bagpipers This Year,” 1884
Oil on canvas
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Info, or perhaps links that point to more info, about this artist can be found here, here (archived, if necessary), here, and here, perhaps in addition to what’s in his Wikipedia page.
/// Famous names from throughout the U.K.
were invited to dinner this day.
Some were mean, rude, and wild;
by the servants reviled.
And yet no one the piper would pay.
/// Sitting five yards away from her spouse,
hosting Dinner at (their) Haddo House,
Ishbel (Marchioness)
in her fanciest dress,
calls for serving the truffle-stuffed grouse.
/// Both the current and future PM,
(she is seated between both of them),
are guests in Aberdeen.
Ah… but, where is the Queen?
At Balmoral, accepting a gem.
/// Gladstone takes this occasion to brag
to his hostess, Ishbel, of the swag
which from parties he swipes,
such as spoons and bagpipes,
deftly slipped into his Gladstone bag.
/// Toward the piper, the Brits don’t feel guilt
about asking what’s under his kilt.
Giggles at his expense
make the atmosphere tense.
(They’re just jealous of how well he’s “built.”)
/// As the piper completed a tune,
he caused one lady diner to swoon.
Not at all indiscreet,
she’d dropped down at his feet
a large, well-polished, mirror-like spoon.
/// The spoon’s convex surface reflected
an image the woman inspected.
Her eyesight, (corrected),
caught a glimpse, she suspected,
of a monument partly erected.
/// He’d imbibed a wee dram o’ hard liquor,
(being watched like a hawk by the vicar).
But the pipes that he plays
do not “charm” and upraise
any snakes from a basket of wicker.
/// He downed all of the Scotch; none was spilt.
(Not enough to make anything wilt.)
Then that woman cried, “Eeek!”
after stealing a peek
at the pet python under his kilt.
/// Some prefer a sedate harpsichord.
Others hear it and quickly get bored.
Tastes in music diverge
and emotions may surge,
but when pipers played nobody snored.
/// The Scots piper continues to play,
and he daydreams about the great day
when, by voting or war
they’re united no more.
Independence… if he had his way.