Rage they did till their tongues were lair --
Faith — nettle's a gey short sting.
A skelpit dowp an a grumphin glower,
Ne'er clippit a lintie's wing.

I niver cared, dell nur docken,
They micht grummel, an curse, an bann,
Fur I'd jeloused far the kelpie hides,
Far the peesie wheeps, an the bandie bides,
An the silken birk in the gloamin glides,
An the rabbit roadies gang.

For ilkie teir on a torn frock
Wis a tree I'd shinned alang...
'Twis a stand o velvet trumpeters,
The foxgloves played me a sang.
Them an a choir o bluebells
That keepit me oot sae lang.

An aabody kens that the reidest rasps
Are clasped in the sherpest thorn,
Far the daddylanglegs cried me in —
His wyte that ma claes wis torn.

The pirled hose, an the scrattit legs?
 'Twis heather that caad them dane,
'Twis birk an win' on a body's skin
(For aabody kens that a bairn maun climm)
That bladdit ma Sabbath sheen.

I'd try the patience o Job, says you,
Yer wishin I'd niver bin born...
I'll catch ye a salmon —wait an see
The bosker o beezers lowpin the Dee,
Jist dicht the froun far the smile sud be,
I'll be aabody's frien the morn!