In Edinburgh recently I climbed Calton Hill,
To escape from the bleak madding crowd.
And encountered two youths who’d gone up there to chill
And play rave tracks immoderately loud.

Now I tend to consider, though some disagree
I’ve a broad varied musical diet,
But this time I felt it incumbent on me
To confront crimes against peace and quiet.

It’s funny I pondered, it genuinely is,
To think I could speak on others’ behalf,
Talk to these fellas instead of minding my biz,
Expect them not to snort and to laugh.

And it’s odd how I felt that in taking this stand,
I wasn’t thinking of my poor ears only,
But somehow felt I could speak up for Joe Public,
Make their auditory outrage less lonely.

So finding my hutzpah I up to them strode,
Sallied forth to give a piece of my mind,
They stared down like I was a species of toad,
While arguments I struggled to find.

“You’re inflicting it on all of us, it’s not the time or the place!”
I with these callow youths remonstrated,
And they looked on with puzzled and pitying face,
My views clearly not highly rated.

And with folk looking on as this stand-off proceeded,
What felt inescapably bad,
Is I’d tried to take a stand, but now slowly conceded
I felt like an embarrassing dad.

So I slunk away, and at the end of the day
I conclude from these poetic confessings
Another time I think I’d at least try to say
Jesus loves ya, I wish you Gawd’s blessings.

(a recent experience, for World Poetry Day)