My harns are seaweed—when the tide is in
They swall like blethers and in comfort float,
But when the tide is oot they lie like gealed
And runkled auld bluid-vessels in a knot!
The munelicht ebbs and flows and wi’t my thocht,
Noo’ movin’ mellow and noo lourd and rough.
I ken what I am like in Life and Daith,
But Life and Daith for nae man are enough....
And O! to think that there are members o’
St Andrew’s Societies sleepin’ soon’,