Gin Narcissus hid bin human,
(Insteid o' a wee powder puff o' whimsy)
He'd nae been mesmerised b' mirrors.
Mebbe the chiel wis real eneuch,
Findin Reality a thochtie teuch,
Forgot tae dicht his glaisses
Or tint them, aathegither.

Him an me,
Birds o' the same feather.
Eros teets ower ma showder, scunnert.
He wid hae bidden aince, the breet.
Fit's waur, if the degeneration wis complete,
I'd be the better able tae pit up wi't.

The spirit's nae sae sweir,
Still ettles tae walk barfit ower a muir,
Bide oot o' nichts, an watch the horned meen,
Staun, star-struck, in a wid i' the win's steer,
Kick aff the bridled years like a colt —
If body aged wi' mind,
Then I cud thol't!