Auld Reikie, wale o’ ilka town
That Scotland kens beneath the moon!
Whare couthy chiels at e’ening meet
Their bizzing craigs and mous to weet;

And blythly gar auld care gae by
Wi’ blinkit and wi’ bleering eye:
O’er lang frae thee the Muse has been
Sae frisky on the simmer’s green,

Whan flowers and gowans wont to glent
In bonny blinks upo’ the bent;
But now the leaves o’ yellow dye,
Peel’d frae the branches, quickly fly;

And now frae nouther bush nor brier
The spreckl’d mavis greets your ear;
Nor bonny blackbird skims and roves
To seek his love in yonder groves.

Then Reikie, welcome! Thou canst charm
Unfleggit by the year’s alarm;
Not Boreas, that sae snelly blows,
Dare here pap in his angry nose:

Thanks to our dads, whase biggin stands
A shelter to surrounding lands.

Robert Fergusson, 1773

from the forthcoming album ‘Auld Reikie’

see also:

The Mind’s Ay Cradled Whan The Grave Is Near

Idle Fancies