Guid Strang Yell Poem by Robert Anderson

Our Ellek likes fat bacon weel,
And haver--bannock pleases Dick;
A cowd--lword meks lal Wully fain,
And cabbish aye turns Philip sick;
Our deame's for gurdle--keake and tea,
And Betty's aw for thick pez--keale;
Let ilk yen fancy what they wull,
Still my delight is guid strang yell.

I ne'er had muckle, ne'er kent want,
Ne'er wrang'd a neybor, frien, or kin;
My wife and bairns 'buin aw I prize--
There's music i' their varra din:
I labour suin, I labour leate,
And chearfu' eat my humble meal;
My weage can feed and clead us aw,
And whiles affords me guid strang yell.

What's aw the warl widout content?
Wi' that and health man can't be peer;
We suin slip off frae friens and foes,
Then whea but fuils wad feight for gear:
'Bout kings and consuls gowks may fratch;
For me I scworn to vex mysel,
But laugh at courts and owre--grown knaves,
When I've a hush o' guid strang yell.