I mynd on the skyrie Tam Thooms
The forkies that bed in their thrapples
I mynd on the sliddery snails
An the bubbles that grew in the sapples
I mynd on an auld blaik tyke
A Scotty, pechin wi heat
In the sun, wi his mochy guff
An the grun, wi his slivers weet
I mynd on a peony rose
Like a Geisha rowed in silk
An a linn o Lily o Valley
Like spirks o fairies' milk
I mynd on granminnie's lap
The crooshie hyeuk eident there
Her kind een glentin like berries
An a treelip o lang grey hair
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