Good Angel

Good Angel
Ten thousand bullets fired, 
all the angry wasps in the world, 
and devil the one to sting me:
I'm the lucky man.

Ten thousand leagues of trooping in the war, 
watching the mast stab the stars
in a sky as big as anticipation, 
and devil the shot I've heard fired in anger:
I'm dead lucky.

Tens of thousands of bombs fallen
and Europe every bit as dangerous
as ten thousand hair-tearing harridans, 
and here am I, singing, 
lucky as the Twelve Apostles, 
devil the death in me at all:
I'm the lucky man, dead lucky.

17th October 1944 
T. S. Law

from At the Pynt o the Pick and Other Poems (Blackford: Fingerpost Publicatiouns, 2008) 

Reproduced by permission of the Estate of T.S. Law.
T. S. Law

T. S. Law was a prolific poet who wrote mainly in Scots and produced work in a great variety of form and length, his subjects being working-class culture and community, the political condition of Scotland and the world-wide imperative of freedom.

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