They stuck ye up
oan thon hill, A’d jalouse,
tae mak ye bigger
than ye really are.
Fur noo that A’m
richt up close, A can weel
see ye’re
nae mair than a paukie wee byre.
But mebbe an aa
tae lift oor een oan
occasion frae the
riggs an mercatplace,
an mind us that
there’s muckle mair tae’t aa
than grubbin in
glaur fur oor daily breid.
An though A’ve
no much aise fur ye masel,
an staun forbye
ootside yer language gemm,
A’m kinnae
gled ye’re there tae glower at us
an lowse oor cley-claggit
feet frae the grun.
