Addison, Hazel
The frost wis hard upon the grun,
An the sna wis dingin doon,
So I lookit oot the aul sled
An gaed it tae the loon,
His little facie lichtit up
An he shoutit oot wi glee,
"Oh come on Gran pit on yer coat
An come an sled wi me".
Aa wrappit up in coats an scarfs
We set aff up the hill,
Of course he sat upon the sled
An I wis left tae pull,
The breath wis steamin fae my moo,
I'd an icicle at my nose,
Bit bein' the middle o' winter
'Twas only nattrel I suppose.
I puff't an sniff't richt up the hill,
I climm't tae sic a heicht,
I took a hunkie fae my pooch
Tae gie my nose a dicht,
The touw it slippit fae my haan
An quick as it cwid gie
The sled gaed skyttin doon the hill,
There wis naething I cwid dae.
I startit chasin efter't
Bit the sled it githert speed,
My legs began tae buckle
An my nose began tae bleed,
I hid tae stop an get my breath
The sled flew oot o sicht,
God gie me strength I pantit,
I hope the loons a'richt.
It seem't like oors I peltit on,
There wis naething tae be seen,
I startit shoutin for the loon
Faariver hid he gaen
An syne I heard him laachin
Fae a wreath o' sna it came,
He clammer't oot an proudly said
"Oh Grannie dae't again".