Whare ripples
trickles
dreeps awa,
Tha fluid run
tha water braw.
A' triple race frae which it stems
aneath tha starry heevenly hem,
whare a' come an thereby pass
tha rivers edge wha gleams like glass.
Upon tha wintery echo , far weel I ken
tha cracklin tree like a bantom hen,
chuckles oot apun tha glen
aneith tha dark too'ering Ben.
This cul' dark an weary nicht
hulds tha worl' e'er sae ticht
tae tha lays tha lan' does spill
grasps yin an a' therein tae fill
Tae a' tha glory O winter's parade
tha tinsel show, its masqurade.
Fills us a' doun tae tha bane
tae tha spirit O winter's ain.
© Alisdaire O'Caoimph