An’ lang nowte but bad i’ poor Willie wad see,
I’s thenkful she leevet to say—“Bless thee son Willie,
“Many cūmforts we’ve hed but meàst cūmfort i’ thee.”
BILLY WATSON’ LONNING.
O for Billy Watson’ lonnin’ of a lownd summer neeght!
When t’ stars come few an’ flaytely, efter weerin’ oot day-leeght—
When t’ black-kite blossom shews itsel’ i’ hafe-seen gliffs o’ grey,
An’ t’ honey-suckle’s scentit mair nor iver it is i’ t’ day.
An’ nūt a shadow, shap’ or soond, or seeght, or sign ’at tells