from Ille Terrarum

But noo the auld city, street by street,

An' winter fu' o' snaw an' sleet,

Awhile shut in my gangrel feet

      An' goavin' mettle;

Noo is the soopit ingle sweet,

      An' liltin' kettle.

An' noo the winter winds complain;

Cauld lies the glaur in ilka lane;

On draigled hizzie, tautit wean

       An' drucken lads,

In the mirk nicht, the winter rain

      Dribbles an' blads.

Whan bugles frae the Castle rock,

An' beaten drums wi' dowie shock,

Wauken, at cauld-rife sax o'clock,

      My chitterin' frame,

I mind me on the kintry cock,

      The kintry hame.

I mind me on yon bonny bield;

An' Fancy traivels far afield

To gaither a' that gairdens yield

      O' sun an' Simmer:

To hearten up a dowie chield,

      Fancy's the limmer!

Robert Louis Stevenson

Selected by the Scottish Poetry Library