Friday, July 18, 2003
I have fallen off the planet while screening for properly targeted mouse ES clones. However, during this intermission, I present to you a poem on a related topic by John Updike as seen in the New Yorker. If anyone feels confident they know the meaning of the word "blither", I'd be interested to hear it.
TO A WELL-CONNECTED MOUSE
(Upon reading of the genetic closeness of mice and men.)
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
Braw science says that at the leastie
We share full ninety-nine per cent
O'genes, where'ere the odd ane went.
O nibblin', pink-tail'd, bright-ee'd sir,
We hail frae ane sma' fearful blur
'Neath dinorsaur feet, lang syne-
Na mair be pestie, cousin mine.
Stay oot my larder, oot my traps
An' they'll snap softer doon, p'rhaps,
For theft and murther blither go
When a's i' th' family, bro' and bro'.