“Hae a’ the weans been gude?” he asks,
As he pits off his shoon;
“The bairnies, John, are in their beds,
An’ lang since cuddled doon.”
And just afore we bed oorsels,
We look at our wee lambs;
Tam has his airm roun’ wee Rab’s neck,
And Rab his airm round Tam’s.
I lift wee Jamie up the bed,
An’ as I straik each croon,