Cowld Protection
by Jenny S Stewart

Ah've tried wearin woolens richt next till ma skin,
Though id keeps ye fair warm, id's no long 'fore ye fin'
Id plays havoc on boady as skin starts till itch,
Fey yur bowg till yur oxter id's pure fever pitch.

Then ah thocht maybe thick tights wiz winter cowld cure,
Boot e heyt roond ma back end wiz hell till endure,
Forbye, they wiz too long an lurked roond ma knees,
An leygs lek a bloodhound wiz really hard cheese.

So now ah'm in layers an ma blood's really singin,
Boot goin till e caff-seck's lek peelin an ingin,
Id's as well at ah'm single cause man in e mood,
Would fin id took at long he'd gone off his food.

Now, till meyt for e cowld, weel ah love soups an stews,
An ma favourite's thick broth, hid even beyts booze
At haddin e cowld oot, id costs no a lot,
Though a droppie o win' efter's no choost sa hot.

Boot e answer till winter's e summer ah reckon,
As sun teets fey clouds an e bonnie days beckon,
So ah'm sittin here thinkin on warm summer weeks,
As e cowld nips ma nose an ma fower bonnie cheeks.