The Little Tiny Kickshaw
“—And any little tiny kickshaws.”
—Shakespeare.
O the little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me,
’Tis sweeter than the sugar-plum that reepens on the tree,
Wi’ denty flavorin’s o’ spice an’ musky rosemarie,
The little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me.
’Tis luscious wi’ the stalen tang o’ fruits frae ower the sea, An’ e’en its fragrance gars we laugh wi’ langin’ lip an’ ee, Till a’ its frazen sheen o’ white maun melten hinnie be— Sae weel I luve the kickshaw that Mither sent tae me.
O I luve the tiny kickshaw, an’ I smack my lips wi’ glee,
Aye mickle do I luve the taste o’ sic a luxourie,
But maist I luve the luvein’ han’s that could the giftie gie
O’ the little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me.