The Sunday Post

Hullo ma wee blog,

Goat. {1956}

The goat, with amber dumbells in his eyes,
The blase lecher, inquisitive as sin,
White sarcasm walking, proof against surprise.

The nothing like him goat, goat-in-self,
Idea of goatishness made flesh, pure essence
In idle masquerade on a rocky shelf -

Hangs upside down from lushest grass to twitch
A shrivelled blade from  the cliffs barren chest
And holds the grass well lost; the narrowest niche

Is frame for the devils face;the steepest thatch
of byre or barn is pavement to his foot;
The last. loved rose a prisoner to his snatch;

And the man in his man-ness, passing, feels suddenly
Hypocrite found out, hearing behind him that
Vulgar vibrato, thin derisive meh-eh.

Norman MacCaig.