By green banks uv thae Tweed, nae finer spot in May
Ae stroll’d alang thae Borders, an chanc’d upon Gedwearde.
Tha’ genteel toon, it drew me, tae rest beside tha’ burn
An thair paraded past me, ae grand hist’ry of souls
Sir Walter Scott in stride, an then, fair Rabbie Burns
(his fine wolfsbane eyes, tald secrets wi’out ae waird).
Ae gasp’d a’lowd tae spy, ol’ Bonny Prince Charlie hi’self,
An as ae turn’d a’boot I saw, tha’ Queen, Mairie o’Scots.
As shadows fad’d at twi’light, an birds coo’d in thae glen
Ae haird auld monks prayin’, at the river by thae kirk.
I kenna say for certain, wha’ happen’d ow tha’ day
Th’a wair sum went a’wanderin, tha’s ow ae hav tae say.
© 2012 S. Michaels