Photo: Flickr

An Ode to the Purple Man of St Andrews

Who are you, Purple Man?

Oh purple man, thou sentient berry hue

How thy coat and inky trousers match

Ne’er one garment out of place

And thy sway the eyes of others catch.

Thy midnight shade, thine sweet Ribena beard

So full as if a-stolen from a sleeping otter

Draw me in with thy amethyst glare

Like Serendip, the wind is turning hotter.


Who art thou I wonder, purple man

To whom can boast thine scented orchid being?

Thine shifting vision, slip-budge walk

Hidden though we ne’er tire of seeing.

Oh turrets high, ruins smelted in God’s steely wrath

These three streets where none hath thy name

But on the pebbled paves we verily step

Without thee our town would not be the same.


Photo: Purple Man of St Andrews, Facebook



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