Reason ser’s nae end but pleasure,
Truth’s no’ an end but a means
To a wider knowledge o’ life
And a keener interest in’t.

We wha are poets and artists
Move frae inklin’ to inklin’,
And live for oor antrin lichtnin’s
In the haingles atweenwhiles,

Laich as the feck o’ mankind
Whence we breenge in unkennable shapes
   -Crockats up, hair kaimed to the lift,
   And no’ to cree legs wi’!…

 

from A Drunk Man Looks at Throbbing Thistle