3rd place winner in the Published Poets category of the 2017 UNESCO Dunedin City of Literature Robert Burns Poetry Competition

(? from The Merrie Muses of Caledonia)

What ails ye, Wullie, pur wee mann?

Ye hang sae far a-doune,

And ye ha’ shrivelled so awa,

We scarce can see your croune.

My luve is in a far countree,

And I hae cause to pine,

For thogh I crave her kisses sweet

I canna mak her mine.

What lifts ye, Wullie, to such heights,

As ye wuld pierce the skies,

Stiff-standin there, in sic gude cheer,

Ane sight for greedy eyes.

Though she may be sae far fro me,

Nae langer need I pine:

Last nicht, beneath the am’rous mune,

I dreamt that she was mine.

What swells ye, Wullie, to such size?

Ye hang a-doun nae more,

But red and stoot ye stand right oot,

As onie granite tor.

My luve’s a-bed wi’ me, wi’ me!

Let all the wurld be thine;

I hold her in my luving arms,

And she’s for ever mine.

What wull ye an’ your Rose sae fair,

Wi’ all your main and might?

Pray lat us in, and we’ll begin

Ta keek at your delight.

The play betwixt we twa, my friends,

Is noght for uthers’ sicht;

I draw the curtains, neighbours al,

An’ wish ye so gude nicht!