Wha but kens o' Paper Kate?

Trudgin', pechin' air and late,

Sair forfouchen, never bate,

Reg'lar as the post was Kate.

 

Winter storms micht rage and blaw,

Roads be deep in driftit snaw,

Bus micht coup and train micht wait,

But nocht could taigle Paper Kate.

 

Up the mile-lang village street

Cam' the trot o' Katie's feet;

Roun' the farms and villas nate

Nae dog barked at Paper Kate.

 

A' the weanies in the place

Kent her wee roun' wrunklet face;

Rinnin' scuddy to the gate,

Aft they welcomed Paper Kate.

 

Kate had crack for auld and young -

Wha was deid and wha was hung,

And a' the great affairs o' state,

Nane could reel them aff like Kate.

 

Katie's shawl - 'twas ocht but warm -

That sheilded aye her ware frae harm,

Lang had it lost its young conceit

When first it met wi' Paper Kate.

 

Katie's shoon - in winter worn -

Aff were flung at May's return:

"Shoon an' siller's ill to get -

Hackit heels are cheap!" quo Kate.

 

Blithe when weary banes were sair,

Cheery aye, though auld and puir;

Nane that ever foucht wi' Fate

Kept a spunkier heart than Kate.

 

But ae winter mornin' snell

Puir auld Katie slip't and fell:

Hame was carried, cauld and quate -

Syne we heard nae mair o' Kate.

 

Where she lies there's few that care -

Whiles a daisy waukens there;

But for stane, or name, or date,

Wha wad fash for Paper Kate?