I am telt, Eurydice, that ghaists maun be laid.
That the heidstane maun slide on the lid o the past.
That worritin auld banes, is an unhalesome pastime
The last luik o ye, quine.
Maun be jist yon — the last.
An sae, fareweel, ye kent, ye unkent shaddae.
We maun pairt, unbeeriet stillborn wirm
O bairntiine, maidentime. I'll turn nae mair
Doon the derk maze o yestreen    
Dod na, I'll bumbaze ye yet!
I'll rowp yon fattit Minotaur,
Ye haud at yer yirdy core
In the neist mart!
Yer deid, ye jaad, yer deid,
An canna sook upon ma leevin bluid.

I maun foresweir the auld, tae cultivate the new.
Bit ilkie divit o dirt
I set on yer unclean broo
Clarts ma airs face wi glaur     
Eurydice, ma cross, ma bonnie monster,
Lie quate, noo.