by Jaz Dunnichen
Ken thon Latin soonds richt braw
ween Scots is better tho naw?
Syne wha daur medle wi me
kin o’ sums up whit wi gie.
For fechts dinnae gang leukin,
face doon aiples whan dookin,
sing saft but mind wha ye are –
dae thon an ye shoud gae faur.
Rome stairtit it teuk wir grund.
No cantie wi whit thay fund
Onywey didnae bide lang
didnae thole the Pictish sang.
An wather wis fell snell tae –
niver redd that sae fowk say.
Tyned some sodgers in the haar
thon ane blaws in aff the mar.
Ken a puckle wirds thay gied
but wiv aye hud wir ane leid.
Aince wheens laithed wir mither tongue
but ye cannae stap whit gits sung,
fae louns an queans in the hairt.
Ye’ll no sinder thon apairt.
Guid ensenyie nemo me –
mynd wha daur dings it aw day.