Rab's Poem of the Day in the Herald last week

Snawdraps

The twenty-seeventh o Janwar, wha'd believe,
daunderin throu Drumlanrig's policies,
ablow gnarled oak an beech, whaes canopies
wir juist the slumbrin dwams o giant trees,
that we wid fuin these harbingers o Spring.
Green slender stalks ootcomin frae the grund,
prood heids held heich, that boldly socht the sun,
bi brucken stobs, an barbwire gently rusting.
Hou did these trustfu flooers instil sic joy?
Did they bring us in mind o oor green years?
Autumnal men aye haud their memories dear;
lik fillin jeelie-jaurs at schuil, as boys.
Whit'er it wis, some deep thing steered in me,
that stoapt ma oot-raxed haund, an lat thaim be.