The secret that I’d fain find oot
O’ this bricht hive, this sorry weed,
The tree that fills the universe,
Or like a reistit herrin’ crines.
Gin I was sober I micht think
It was like something drunk men see!
The necromancy in my bluid
Through a’ the gamut cheenges me
O’ dwarf and giant, foul and fair,
But winna let me be mysel’