Gilsanquhar’s vows to sign the pledge,
Or’s if I thocht maist whisky was,
Or failed to coont the cheenge I got,
Sae wad I be gin I rejoiced,
Or didna ken my place, in thee.
O stranglin’ rictus, sterile spasm,
Thou stricture in the groins o’ licht,
Thou ootrie gangrel frae the wilds
O’ chaos fenced frae Eden yet
By the unsplinterable wa’