Johnston, Mary
Eence on a day an still an on,
the guff o gorse wechty in the air -
the River Ythan waaners on its wye
doon throu the girssy, green leys.
It loops roon the Eilan ablo the twa Brigs -
loons guddle til their wystes in waater
howpin ti fin mair as fish this time, mibbees
mair pearls for the Scottish Queen's Croon.
At Cromley 's the plooman clicks his tongue,
his horse shives furrit, he leans on the hannles,
the coulter slices doon throu the derk broon grun -
the see-maws skwaack an fecht abeen his heid.
The baillie's wee quine leads in the milk coo
an ties it up in the byre, her dad reezes her milkin,
the Shorthorn bulls are kamed an brushed doon
for the annual Show in Ellon Castle.
The baillie's loons in the lang simmer days
play tackie roon the steadin biggins,
an molloch aboot on the river bank
amun the cromlech's steeny rickle.
Eence on a day Druid Priests waalkt roon
their new biggit, heich stannin altar,
praisin, preachin, singin, teachin,
tae them that wid sit an lissen.
Education wis aye their main thing,
they tellt o the sterns an the universe,
hoo oor sowels wid live on for iver,
hoo the werld began an us wi it.
Laughin, daffin, chit-chattin scholars
gaither roon the new biggit Campus,
naethin has chynged at the Cromlech-bank-
Learnin is aye ettlet efter.