The noontide warmth snickers in an aboot thon trees
Ma wee dug snuffles arount the bracken
Nay gien a jot tae scunnered flies he pits in the air
Ir thir knackered buzzin birls doon tae anither brack.
The silence fair dunts the lugs
Whilst o'er bye a wee bird gies a helf herted cheep
Tae jildy a dunnock oot the wae
Afore the dug gies a loup an has them awa'.
Anent the forrest's edge
Ae coo, moo's a lament tae bein jagget
By a clegg ir some ither beastie.
We saunter on; the dug an me.
Him aye hopefu some wee moosie I'll pop up
Saes he can shou whit a ratter he is.
Nothin daen, pal, e'en a wee moosie
Cannae thole thon heat.
The sun kenspekles the grun
The dug sticks his neb dooon aa the holes
In hopes a wee moup 'ill came bye.
Bit the Noontide sun's pit a dwam tae thon.
As we daunder the woods, aa alane.
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