’At Marron Beck’s a bonnie beck, what mazelin wad deny?
An’ what compares wi’ Branthet Neùk ’at Marron Beck gā’s by?
Wid hoozes white, an’ worchets green, an’ Marron runnin’ clear,
Eigh! Branthet Neùk’s a heartsome spot i’ t’ sūnny time o’ year!
But loave! it is a dowly pleàce when winter neeghts growe lang;
For t’ lwoan ligs dark atween it’s banks,—- a flaysome rwoad to gang
When t’ wind rwoars wild in t’ trees abeùn, an’ Marron rwoars below,—
An’ Branthet Neuk’s a hantit spot, as I’ve some reeght to know.
They say a heidless woman woaks at sartin neeghts o’ t’ year,
An’ greàns an’ yewls at sec a rate as freeghtens fwoke to hear;