The futterat an the cooshie doo
Looked doon frae Bennachie,
An saw a skyrie mushroom,
Growin hine up frae the sea.

“Gweed sakes an Lord b' here,” they cried,
“Fit queer-like ferlie's thon?
I'd sweir that I saw Aiberdeen
Bit fin I blinked, she'd gone.”

“A contermashious lot, are men,”
(Said futterat tae the doo)
“We winna miss them muckle here,
We'll bigg the warld anew.”

She heezed her wings, an dippit doon,
Tae seek her cosy nest,
Bit as the wids hid turned tae dust
An ashes wi' the rest.