The Nith in spate, the valley sodden, fludit,
Cloods low an grey an drumlie, skies owercast,
A spavit yowe sprauchlin ower the field,
Whan oot the corner o ma ee they flasht.
Abune a hunner Gowdspinks wheelin, swarmin,
Birds that aften anely gang in pairs,
Yet, here they wir, ah’d ne’er seen sae mony!
Descendin oan the shilpit burrs o thistles,
Lang thin beaks that, hungert, probed daurk teasels,
Sairchin oot the meagre hairst it brocht thaim.
Then, up they’d rise agane, thon spunk o gowd,
A clood imbued wi virr, that held a spectrum;
Bricht yella, bleck an rid an white an broun,
A sicht tae mak the weary hairt jist soar!
Carduelis Carduelis, their nem a sang itsel,
Nae wunner they wir thocht a ‘saviour’ bird –
Raphael’s Madonna del cardellino;
A Gowdspink flauchters i’ the haund o Christ;
Stark warnin o the weird that he maun dree.
A watcht thaim tumble, wheel an disappear;
An aa the gowd o simmer faded wi thaim.