Robertson, Stanley
Mi coothie best freen, whar hae ye gane?
Whin I cawed for ye I wis aa alane.
Lost intae a wirldie unkent by me,
Flegged and confuddled, mi een cannae see.
Accused o daein things mi spirit torn bi thocht
Pinting fingers pokin, mi leaf alane I focht.
I waited and gandered for ye tae return
Tae clear mi name nae mair for tae mourn,
But the minties turned tae oories
And the oories changed tae days
Wi nae a trusty freen tae guide mi through the maze.
Whin the tides were different I wis there for ye.
Niver thinking that ye wid iver desert me.
But I learned the lesson the hard wye.
A bitter withy tae try.
It streeked mi back like a cuddy
The sairness left mi name muddy
Yet een lesson I gained for mi ainsell
For necessity, Scots mithers' angel,
Niver trust a hand at human price,
Peter denied oor Lord nae eence but thrice.