Tae be wan aye the poorest wis his lot
His proudest brag tae be a Scot.
While words wid dance across the page
An inner hunger ever raged.
Though deemed tae be a man aye note
He’d never boast a single groat.
And, yet, he wis content -it’s said
Tae be well-nourished in his head.
Fur there wis much tae make him glad
Though, others thocht him muckle sad.
While some aye earthly sorrows pined
He seemed contented in his mind…
He lived, quite simply, til’ the end
Loyal, and trusted, as a friend.
Though, his hunger never wis assuaged
He wisnae starved aye love or praise.
And wi’ the passing aye the years
There wis much shedding aye fond tears.
Though he wis gaun, his words lived on
The echoes aye a much loved song…