The Rhymers

Whun days iz chälly, DReekh, an DReer,

An Chräsmas Time iz DRawin near,

The laang foresupper wull provide

Contentment roon the haem fireside.

A kinely neybour daaNNers än,

A freenly yaarn ur twaw tae spän

The weary waens iz waasht an fed

An suin’ll be snugly haapt in bed.

The baarns, the byres, the stable dorrs,

Iz safely closed wae bolts aan baars.

Peace noo reigns — a happy peace

Comes doon alike on maan an beece.

The kätchen dorr iz on the laatch,

Whaur the oul coalie keeps his waatch.

His bärses rise wae waarnin baark,

As oot he waadles throo the daark.

He TRies his best tae keep at bae,

A score o Chräsmas Rhymers gay,

They know him week, they caw his name,

An in the enn he leads them haem.

Lord knows the places they hae been,

They’re dung an guTTers tae the een,

Rhymin their wey fur miles an miles

ThRoo shukhs an loanins, slaaps an stiles.

DResst up lik lords an knights of yore

They claaTTer roon the faerm — hooce dorr,

STRekhten their wägs, an maasks, an swords,

An check their eNTRance cues an wurrds,

Then flängin wide the kätchen dorr:

“Ruim! ruim! ma gaalant boys!” they roar.

Feard, the wee weans in terror flee

Fur safety tae their paerents’ knee.

An then begäns the age-oul tale

Hoo “George” weel-claad in coat o mail

Sae forceful raamed his degger thRoo

That he the DRedded DReggon slew.

The kätchen fluir is suin a stage

On which these rustic ecTers rage.

The audience, getherd roon the haerth,

Enjoy this chaance o haemly maerth.

Whiles the scaared wee waens ’ll squeal

Whun thRoo the kätchen jumps the Deil,

Wae twaw laang hoarns an a hairy mane

An fae his mäddle hangs a chain.

Fae ootside, waetin in the coul

Impatient täl the story’s toul,

Comes rushin än Wee Jonnie Funny,

He’s the boy at caaries the money.

The Waens bae noo hae loast their fears

Whun än Wee Jonnie Funny teers,

An roon the hooce waw deevin dän

Seeks caupers fur his wee oul tän.

So än the enn weel saatisfied

They säng a saang o Chräsmas Tide,

A verse ur twaw o local lore

And then they claaTTer oot the dorr.

They’r gone; their noisy fraulics cease,

The hooce goes baack tae quaet an peace,

Täl by-an-by “John Naud” appears

Tae coax the youngsTers up the steers.

The laamps iz snubbed, an very suin

The waenin, lonely, mädnäkht muin

Wull enn her coorse — hide her laast rae:

“Waak up! waak up! It’s Chräsmas Dae!