Winter bairns are happed in snaw,
singing merrily on the brae.
Cauld aneuch the wind micht blaw,
it winna worry sic as they.
In this braw season, as they play
joyous as a burn in spate,
hardship takes a holiday
and winter bairns are never blate
at finding ferlies to create
or drawing dreams frae snaw and ice.
Skeely as they slide and skate
ye’d think they bade in paradise
and had nae thocht of puirtith’s vice,
of cauld and hunger, fear and pain.
Whiteness makes the world seem wyce,
smoors owre ocht that isna clean.
With cranreuch cantie on the pane,
snaw drops sweetly, heaven-sent.
Winter’s warmth is here again
and barefoot summer’s lang ahint!