“Wee Wullie Waggletail, what is a' your stishie?
Tak a doup o' water and courie on a stane:
Ilka tree stands dozent, an' the wind without a hishie
Fitters in atween the fleurs and shogs them, ane be ane.

What whigmaleerie gars ye jow and jink amanf the duckies,
Wi' a rowsan simmer sin beekin on your croun;
Wheeple, wheeple, wheeplin like a wee burn owre the chuckies,
An wagglin here, an wagglin there, an wagglin up an' doun.”