Quean of Poetry
If I take the craw road from here to Dundee
I will find the lassie my quean of poetry.
I read the wirds an aw that sing
As the pen haud in her hand ring
Sing to me again my quean of ink
I luve the lass that makes me think
I ken the wirds will make me cry
An aw that sing I'll smile an sigh.
So a wannabe poet put pen ta paper
An writ in mither tongue for caper
For the lassie that is aw that an more
I ken it will be a wee poetic bore