Epistle To William Simson
t willie, set your fit to mine,
an' cock your crest;
we'll gar our streams an' burnies shine
up wi' the best!
we'll sing auld coi's pins an' fells,
her moors red-brown wi' heather bells,
her banks an' braes, her dens and dells,
whare glorious walce
aft bure the gree, as story tells,
frae suthron billies.
at walce' name, what scottish blood
but boils up in a spring-tide flood!
oft have our fearless fathers strode
by walce' side,
still pressing onward, red-wat-shod,
lorious died!
o, sweet a
Epistle To William Simson(4/7)