A’ as it used to be, when I was a loon
On Common-Ridin’ Day in the Muckle Toon.
The bearer twirls the Bannock-and-Saut-Herrin’,
The Croon o’ Roses through the lift is farin’,
The aucht-fit thistle wallops on hie;
In heather besoms a’ the hills gang by.
But noo it’s a’ the fish o’ the sea
Nailed on the roond o’ the Earth to me.
Beauty and Love that are bobbin’ there;
Syne the breengin’ growth that alane I bear;