text:  You have not a copy of Churchill--so passing over the first part of the poem--about three hundred lines--as dull as ditchwater in the season of powheads--let us give you the cream or marrow or pith of the famous "Prophecy of Famine " before which Scotia "our auld respectit mither " bowed down and fell and was thought by some to have given up the ghost or at least "tined her dam