Dear Brither —
Jist a note tae say,
He's settled doon rale fine...
Forbye's a twa, three thingies —
He's a maist inquirin mind!
He's fichered wi the knobbies,
Till the tractor winna start,
He tint the monthly milk yield
Fin we took him tae the mart.
The bull is fair ferfochen,
Since he lat the beastie free,
It's served fully fifty heifers
O' the Charlie pedigree:
Nae coontin 19 Herefords,
It wisna meant tae cover,
14 Friesians, 16 Ayrshires,
20 Guernseys, an wir mither!

The binder twine is raivelled;
Aa the cats hiv run awa;
He drapt them frae the stable reef
(Tae see foo far they'd fa.)

The inferno wis a peety,
Noo, we hinna ony strae,
Bit we've taen awa his matches,
The insurance comes the day.

The wee sowel fed the calfies,
Bit he gaed them as the scoor,
He fulled their pails wi kirnfus
O' turpentine an floor!

He's fair increased the egg returns,
The hens jist hear him come,
An they fire oot double yokers,
Like the pellets frae a gun...

The killin hoose collecktit them,
The sheep, frae aff the road,
An foo wis he tae ken,
They'd niver learned the Highway code?
For his neist years Simmer holidays,
Please — sen' him tae the Boers:
He's mair nur flesh an bluid can staun;
Dear Brither,
Ever yours!