A caller skelp o stane an storm,
Braeriach's sides are tempest-torn;
An in yon weety, derksome wame,
Whaur win is ice an sun's a flame,
The birlin Dee is born.

A sna-brig haps her growin tide,-
Till, breengin up wi kittled pride,
She's heelstergowdie ower a crag!
A frichtsome drap — this watter-hag
Cowps doon a corrie's bride.

Three lochs, disjaskit, dreich as dule,
She lies neth blearie Cairn Toul,
Till, necklet o the Norlan bree
She's glintin ower the Chest o Dee
A jimp an jibblin jewel.

Syne reemin on intil the linn,
Whaur warrior crags rise sterk abune,
An at their foun, an in aneth
Wi feint the whisper o a braith
O win, aa's dreepin, deep as daith,
As seenister as sin.

Ayont the gallows tree o Mar
She's lowsed an liltin fur Braemar
An ilkie burn, on ilkie Ben,
Will jink its cloudy, Heilan den
Tae jine her near an far.

Wi widded hills at ilkie gait
An salmon slidderin doon the spate,
She wallops neth a winsome brig,
Her waves, wud meers afore a gig,
Lowp up in touslie fete.

Atap her faem the kelpies ride,
The deer an eaglet rin astride
Till, pitten on a hamely goun,
She weary-wins a muckle toun
An, fair ferfochen, sattles doon
Tae coost her braws aside.