Tis dreich an’ often dreary,
As the Har creeps up The Mound.
But, och, tis mighty bonnie
As the light reflects abound.
Those canny gems, those locals
With wide open hearts do greet
A wanderer up Arthur’s
Or a bampot on the street.
Wheesht, the Greyfriar guide hisses
As his tales are spun of time,
You numpty we’ll be drookit,
Where’s the brolly, friend o’ mine?
That bitter wind’s a scunner
It sinks straight through yur bones.
You-laddie! Birl yur kilt, pal.
Braw lassies dance an’ groan.
Come. Ceilidh night’s a calling.
Pipers pipe the haggis in.
A wee nip o’ whiskey, ken?
She’s a blether, ain’t she hen.
Blootered, check oot the castle
Tis elegant day an’ night
Bairn, dinnae you haiver
Our pride an’ Edinburgh’s might.
Kerry Bridges