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.

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