The auld broon
troot lay unner a stane,
Unner a stane
lay he,
An he thocht
o' the wund,
An he thocht
o' the rain,
An the troot
that he uist tae be.
A'm a gey auld
troot, said he tae hissel,
A gey auld
troot, said he,
An there's
mony a queer-like
Tale A cuid
tell
O' the things
that hae happened tae me.
They wee-hafflin
trooties are aa verra smart,
They're aa
verra smert, said he,
They ken aa
the rules
O' the gemm
aff by hairt,
An they're no
aften catched, A'll agree.
They're
thinkin A'm auld an they're thinkin A'm duin,
They're
thinkin A'm duin, said he,
They're
thinkin A'm no
Worth the
flirt o' a fin
Or the blink
o' a bonnie black ee.
But A'm safe
an A'm smug in ma bonnie wee neuk,
A'm safe an
A'm snug, said he,
A'm the big
fush that
Nae fusher can
heuk,
An A'll aye be
that - till A dee!
