For ma guid fier, Peter Wright
The Goose Pie's on the Caistle
Hill,
It's nae sae bad, nor nae sae ill,
Tho Honest Allan liked his yuill,
He sauved a sum,
Tae pey for ilka winock sill,
Foredoor an lum.
Blyth thair he bidit bi his hairth,
Wi muckle lauchter, sang an mirth,
An fowk wad come frae ilka airth,
His vairse tae pree:
The Gentle Shepherd pruived its
wirth,
It bore the gree.
Apon a plinth they stanced his
limn,
Kerved ooten stane, aye mindin
him,
Wha stieve Parnassus Brae did
sclim,
An scrievit braw
Byordinar vairse at aye wull glim,
Or Lest Trump's blaw.
His limn keeks nou ower Princes
Street,
In simmer's hait or wunter's weet,
But fegs! it certes gars me greet,
Tae ken at fowk,
Wad raither gowp ablow his feet,
At some wee gowk!
