by Douglas Willock

Wee Wienie Wylie may not yet be born
But of his certain coming we canna be forlorn
It thus behooves his mony freens
To busy be, an’a’that

Wee couthie laddie when he comes to bide
But the time will mak him grow an’change – an’ dry the tide
Which a’adds up an’ simply means
A birkie he, an’a’that
Who needs the earth, the air an’sun, a hoose, mair scoope,

Jean has a’ the fixins – bonny hame we cry –
But Wee Wienie Sylie will want his ain for-bye.
Wi’wood an’nails an’lots o’fun
A sonsie hoose an’a’that.
An hi wee but an’ben will come, wi’love, come time