The Proota Gaitherin

Dae ye mine the times in hairvest climes
When we gaed gaitherin prootas
Me, mae ma an whiles mae da
An the neighbours roon aboot us

Ben yer bak an dinnae slak
Heid doon an dinnae stap
The wunter‛s naw sae far awa
An we cannae loas the crap

Then pert o yer wage at the bak o a hedge
Was yer tay frae a gellon can
A loaf o breid wae butter weel spreed
An a coatin o hame-made jam

An thon coul sits by the proota pits
As they thatched an shovelled soil
Then a fire o peat, an a bite tae eat
At the enn o hard days toil.

By William Livingstone