(For George Reston Malloch)
There’ s teuch sauchs growin’ i’ the Reuch Heuch Hauch.
Like the sauls o’ the damned are they,
And ilk ane yoked in a whirligig
Is birlin’ the lee-lang day.
O we come doon frae oor stormiest moods,
And Licht like a bird i’ the haun’,
But the teuch sauchs there i’ the Reuch Heuch Hauch
As the deil’ s ain hert are thrawn.
The winds ’ ud pu’ them up by the roots,
Tho’ it broke the warl’ asunder,
But they rin richt doon thro’ the boddom o’ Hell,
And nane kens hoo fer under!
There’ s no’ a licht that the Heavens let loose
Can calm them a hanlawhile,
Nor frae their ancient amplefeyst
Sall God’ s ain sel’ them wile.