Lang syne I penned a mickle rhyme
That muckle grief brocht to my soul;
For critics said 'twas aye a crime
Nae Scottish patriot could thole
Whit way I ca'ed their honored bard,
Wi' kind intention, 'Bobbie' Burns.
Aye, mon, they smote me fine an' hard
Wi' sic' fierce words as nae yin learns
Save native sons, those braw, stern men
O' mountain crag an' heather glen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem