Dandelions an tha Ulstèr-Scotch

Ye’r no a beauty – A maun alloo
But an honest face ye sure hae grew
An sae ye’ll hae a sang
A like thon braw, big yella heid
Tha mair ye’r but an ugly weed
Less fowks caa ye wrang.

In Scotch we caa ye ‘Pish-tha-bed’
A doot o ye e’en waur gets said
Nae matter flooer or weed
The same oor tongue is aye miscaa’d
Dialeck, slang an lenguage fraud
Makin burns on ilka leid.

But, weed or no, yin thing A ken
Thar’s muckle ye can lairn iz men
Less A be gye mista’en
Ye dinnae greet owre sair rebuffs
Ye tak’ a thoosan sneds an cuffs
An growe up fresh agane.

Ye like, nae doot, tha best o grun
Quhaur valued flooers is maistlie fun
But quhan it can’t be had
Ye mak tha best o quhit ye hae
An growe in roaks or saun or clay –
Thar’s naethin ye coont bad.

An quhiles tae thaim as wud ye kill
Ye thole it wi unseen ill-will
It’s milk ats in yer veins
Revenge ye niver tak fur wrang
Nae thristle-point nor pussion-stang
Thon form o yours contains.

Ye keep maist reg’ler oors, the’ say
An dinnae turn tha nicht til day
Wi warkin efter dairk
Ye shuts yer een as sin gans doon
An apens quhan ye hear tha soon
O early risin lark.

O dear, auld, ugly, yella bloom
A shudnae grudge ye elbaw room
Fur life fur you is ruch
An quhan ye’r auld yer heid is grey
Jist like oor ain maun be yin day
Gin we leeve lang eneuch.