The bigsie cooshie doos, vauntie as cooncillors,
Strut i' the sun, atap their quarried Parthenon.
Splay-fitted dyeuks, sploosh i' the Duthie Park
In wellington-weet.

Bit I delicht in half-licht, in happit, hidden things.
I lue the haar that creeps,
Makkin a drooned Atlantis o ilk street
The haar that statues the toun
Wi islands o civic pride.

I delicht in the ocean's cauldron o deceit.
The sleekit haar,
That pads, a sounless tod, on siller feet
Frae sea till its granite lair
In an inexplicable tide ....

An mair — I like sun, efter rain
Strikk fire on flinty mica, on weet sclate
Dreepin a granary doon frae the rainbow's horn
A day fin lichtenin, passin St. Nicholas spire
(Its thunner, a pealin choir)
Makks a kirk o hodden grey,
Flash, like a unicorn!