Davy

Drachy the day an dreech the wie

As we gaen oot ower Collin high

Allooin nocht, yit minin aye

The yin awa,

An shane tae lie in the wuntry clie

O cowl Buckna.

The win blew doon frae thon dark heid

Ower stane-daked fiels that yince he leed

Tae fecht on hetter grun, sae we’d

Be fit tae leeve;

We’re leevin a’, but noo he’s deed,

An we man grieve.

Yit jaist tae greet or seech ower lang

For sitch a yin micht weel be wrang;

Sae gie the sab but howl the sang

An a’ his wies

Aye wae wersels whar they belang,

For thon a’ sties.

The appen dorr, the giein han,

The reamin gless, the sweemin pan

He (whiles an apern-weerin man)

Wud hae for a’,

And stanchly as a brither stan,

Come sin, come sna.

Whun noo abain he taks his hairp —

Wae voice sae true an ear sae shairp

Naw e’en an angel’d dar tae cairp,

An weel knows why:

A sowl withoot the sma’est wairp

Wuz Davy aye.