Ane ode tae Rinka (i' the haund o' Rabbie Burns)

Fair fa' yer gallus, sonsie face
Braw maiden o' the Thomson's race
Aboon them a ye'll tak yer place;
Quine, lass an' bairn.
Weel wordie ir ye o' a grace
As lang as ma airm.

Yer een sae bricht is ony star,
Wi cheeks sae saft wi oot ae mar,
A mou thit ony man wid want tae buss:
Kung, cheil ir faither.
Ma hert ye've tae' in
Wi' ilka bother.

Wee lassie, yer a wurld awa
In Japan far ye bide an'a.
Ye'll na forgit yer Granma an Pa
In Scotia's land.
Fir ir luv's deep an huds richt fast
Tae mak ye grand.