Classic Poem

Twa laddies fae the Hielan' hills
Cam' by this road yestreen.
The' baith hed cockit bonnets braw:
The' baith hed bonnie een.

I cudna help but leuk at them —
Sae weel set up an' strang:
Like firs upon a mountain side —
As rede, an' straught, an' lang.

Their bonnets hed the chackit rim;
A green kilt socht their knees:
Rede ribbons at their hose did fla'nt —
They war a sicht to please!

They gart me min' o' some wild deer ,
Sae swank war they, an' free:
Ticht at the queet — the middle jimp —
Fat better shape cud be!

The Khaki kit sat on them weel,
An' licht — for sic a wecht!
I foll'it them wi' a' my een,
An' thocht — sic cocks 'll fecht!

Like staigs they'll horn the German swine —
A creishy, baggit lot! —
An' nae mair like oor Hielan' kin
Than staig 's like market stot .

May luck gae wi' ye, bonnie lads ,
An' guide yer feet back hame:
But weel we ken fatever fa's,
Ye 'll nae bring aucht o' shame.