Aye am I myndin' the snaws on the Grampians,
Aiven in simmer fyte slithers I'd see;
Thase thit wur freesty clung-on fyle the ithers
Gied-in tae sinsheen wi' wattery glee.
Doon braes they'd spleeter tae waukin leen burnies
Untapped in winter oan glens' green-girssy leas;
Bit winds sae nippy aft cam frae the Arctic,
Makin' us fermers dae-naithin' bit sneeze!
"Ma Natur, Ma Natur,"
We'd prig, "Gie's a han;
The wither ye sen us
Aft's spylin' oor lan'."
Tee am I myndin', in spite o' sich trachles,
Waarmth in the kitchie o' oor guid stane-hame;
Jean ivver canty, ma bonnie wee kimmer,
Kepin' me cheery an' fullin' ma wame.
Aye frae ma feedles, I'd come in gey weary,
Wonn'rin gif ivver ma craps warstlin' sair,
Wud gie guid dry hairsts tae sell in September,
Fessin' 'neugh siller tae coff sids aince mair?
Ma Natur, Ma Natur,
We'd thenk gif She shawed
A spirk o' kineness
Tae us an' oor sod.
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