Largo

Ae boat anerlie nou
Fishes frae this shore,
Ae black drifter lane
Riggs the crammasie daw,
Aince was a fleet, and nou
Ae boat alane gaes oot.

War ir Peace, the trawlers win
An the youth turns awa
Bricht wi baubles nou
An thirled tae factory ir store;
Their faithers fished their ain,
Unmaistered; – ane remains.

And never the clock rins back,
The free days are owre;
The warld shrinks, we luik
Mair t’oor maisters ilka hour –
Whan yon lane boat I see
Daith an rebellion blind ma ee!