The PEST      W Rus Darling       (best to read it aloud)

Oh ye,  wha in your oors o ease,

Are fashed wi golochs, mauks an flees,   bothered with beetles, maggots fleas

Fell stingin wasps an bumble bees,

Tak tent o this:                                        heed

There’s ae sma pest that’s waur nor these

To mar your bliss.

They hing ower hedges, burns an wuds,

An dance at een in dusky cluds;

Wi aw your random skelps an scuds,                        slaps and blows

They’re naeweys worrit:

Gin there’s a hole in aw your duds,

They’ll mak strauchtfor it.

I’ve traivled wast, I’ve traivled east;

I’m weel aquant wi mony a beast;

Wi lions, teegers, bears – at least

I’ve kent their claw:

I’ve been the fell mosquito’s feast –

But this cowes aw.

Auld Scotland, on thy bonnie face,

Whan Mither Nature gied ye grace,

Lown, birken glens an floery braes,                  Sheltered, wooded valleys

Wild windy ridges,

To save ye frae deleerit praise,                        delirious

She gied ye midges.