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by Elaine Morton
Read by Marilyn Wright
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Droosie baudrons blent at
the dancin bleize
Whaur snipie fufft wi suit on neb an dowp
An spat at baudrons in a bubble's lowp,
Gart baudrons gie her glentsum hide a heize;
But aye she sang thrie threids in a thrum
An aye the reik flew up the lum.
The maister dovert, mistress wrocht her lane,
Her sleikin airn slade gleg on sark an goun
An snipie's lid gaed duntin up an doun,
Whyles baudrons crooned aside the ingil-stane;
For aye she sang thrie threids in a thrum
An aye the haet gaed up the lum.
Than maister waukent, heard draps hiss an dee,
An raxt til baudrons in a dautin streik,
Saw snipie ettlin fou wi wattir's reik,
Held aff a thouchtish while his haund an ee,
Tho aye she sang thrie threids in a thrum
An aye the bleize raired up the lum.
The hie flames flan, the mistress' airm plied swak,
The maister scrat blyth baudrons' thrumfu pow
An heftit snipie bummed abune the lowe;
The kythin thocht gat birr, wes cled in fac.
An aye she sang thrie threids in a thrum
An aye the smeik raise up the lum.
A mukkil kettil fufft, the yauld steam harld
Lang pistons till they yerkit sleik in slicht,
For pouer wes cleckit in the ingil-licht
Whaur genie lowpit: snipie dang the warld.
But baudrons sang thrie threids in a thrum
An the reik gaed scourin up the lum.
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