For Cuthbert Graham

Fowk spik aboot Scots
Ay, wir ain Doric leid
As if 'twis a dodo
Wha'd drappit doon deid!

As mad tae conserve an preserve the auld wirds,
As a gleg taxidermist, wi putrifeed birds,
They wrangle ower spellin, gash gulls wi their gab,
Ower a muckle weet haddie streekt oot on a slab.

I've news fur them — Scots disna bide in a buik!
It's alive, an it's kickin,
Gin they wid bit look.
Tak a keek frae the waas
 O their ivory tower,
 Tak a traivel ben Buchan,
lnbye, an' oot-ower,
They'd ken it wis livin,
A weel-haunelt shelt,
Fowk spik it wi niver
A thocht foo it's spelt!

A buik fur a tongue?
It's a boon fur the few!
We ken it b'hairt
We've a tongue, in wir mou!