Tho’ She Hearns the Goggy Rostum
Tho’ she hearns the goggy rostum
On mae wyzzled bairns o’ yore,
An’ gurdles all the shaegans
An’ then gurdles them some mar’,
I dinnae kenna naen she fleps
an’ shurgles on the floore–
She’s curdy an’ she’s perdy an’
I’ll lof’ ‘er evermar’.
Froom the fyords o’ frenghie Naurweigh
To the Edinboro shaure,
Froom the haggis plase in Glasgo’
To the haggis plase necks daure,
She’ll ne’er know I pyne fir ‘er
Or gemp ‘er pinafores–
She’ll ne’er tayste mae mumble-shroom
Or quagh its loughin’ spaures.
Her keirghans, ever-lastynge,
her plunters gullytine,
her neeps are scut wi’ paurridge
an’ her yurgoes taste o’ wyne.
I ken I’ll alweighs lof ‘er
an’ skreigh mae spilly yairns
Auntil our greppy slumbernunks
all linger ‘neath the cairns.
Ay, ’til our gloopy globbies laye
a-ling’rin’ ‘neath the cairns.
