Heich abune Auld reikie's bustle
Oan the brae o' Blackford Hill
Ah hunker doon tae weet ma whustle
An' gie ma stervit een their fill

O' the scenery streetcht oot ablow.
I've been awa near twanty year
Frae this steich city's ebb an' flow
Bit the saul o' me wis aye up here

Like Rabbie's famous Hieland hairt.
Ayont the tenements and manses
An' th'ower thranged business pairt
Upo the Firth the sunlicht dances

Heedless o' ilka scheme an' schism.
Wi' Arthur's Seat crouched jist ower yonner
Untrauchled here bi' sumph or bisom
Ma imagination taks a dauner

Tae whan the warld seemed unco swait.
Ah first clam Blackford as a wean o' sax,
A douce wee lad an' awfy blate,
Whan the faimily their shanks wad rax

Fur 'oors ower Braid or Pentland Hills.
We stravaiged wi' Mither at the heid
A weedow wi' an' ootsize share o' ills
Oor faither leyin' twa months deid

Haein' sent hissel' tae everlastin' sleep.
Bit we were weans an' she stoot-hairtit
Sae aff we'd gang, oor waes tae dreep
Intil the yird, whaur the hale jink stairtit,

Tae nourish the future's happit floo'rs.
In sic-like fashion we baith grew strang
Yird an' faimily, syne fillin' the 'oors
Wi' the canty maitter o' breengein' alang

The road frae whelpin' tae bidin' in clay.
Bi' keepin' us gangin' she garred us happy....
At ninety-three she's gane her fareweel way
Leain' me wi' mem'ries baith shairp an' sappie

Oan a gowstie brae i' the aifternoon.
Heich abune the scenes o' ma youth,
The ghaist-thranged New an' Auld Toon,
Ah licht a rolly, than slake ma drooth.