On guid March-weather,
Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han',
For days thegither.
Thou never braindg't, an' fetch't, an' fliskit, plunged, stopped, capered
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,
An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket, chest
Wi' pith an' pow'r,
Till spritty knowes wad rair't and riskit, rooty hillocks, roared, cracked
An' slypet owre. fallen gently over
When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep,