This is the mind o’ a’ humanity,
—The empty intellect that left to grow
’ll let nocht ither be.
Lo! It has choked the sunlicht’s gowden grain,
And strangled syne the white hairst o’ the mune.
Thocht that mak’s a’ the food o’ nocht but Thocht
Is reishlin’ grey abune....
O fitly frae oor cancerous soil
May this heraldic horror rise!
The Presbyterian thistle flourishes,