this mony a year i've stood the flood an' tide;
and tho' wi' crazy eild i'm sair forfairn,
i'll be a brig when ye're a shapeless !
as yet ye little ken about the matter,
but twa—three winters will inform ye better.
when heavy, dark, tinued, a'-day rains,
wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the pins;
when from the hills where springs the brawling coil,
or stately lugar's mossy fountains boil;
or where the greenock winds his moornd course.
or haunted garpal draws his feeble source,
aroused by blustering winds an' spo
The Brigs Of Ayr(10/20)