The Win

Blackhall, Sheena

The win's a spurtle
It steers the trees,
Till they hotter an byle
Aa the smaa green leaves.

An a furly cloud,
Like a flicht o rikk,
That's blaik as a craw,
Or a weet coo's lick,
Gings wallopin, wallopin, ower the kirk,
Jynes hauns wi its friens
In the derk pit mirk,
An yon's fan the nicht draws curtains roon
The sichts an the souns
O the sleepin toon.