As I gaed doon b' Huntly toun
I heard a cushie wheeple,
A hummel doo, her cutty goun
Wis hamely as her threeple.

"I anely sik a bittie corn
A sma thing, tae be speirin.
An fa wad gie a bird the scorn
Wi as the warld brierin?"

A doo is bit a tirlin-pin
A nochtie pluff o feathers,
That ony win may turn an spin
I didna heed her blethers!

Yet, hyne oot-ower Strathbogie lan
The cushie swooped an birled
A wee, wee, skirp, o sang, an virr,
Wi licht an sunshine mirled.
Abeen my dowie hums and haws,
Her pairtin warnin dirled

"The wecht o winter, on a wing,
A doo can unnerstaun.
Ye cairry winter in yer hairt —
A puir-like craitur's man!"