by: Emslie, Mary
The tinsel's gein limp, and the dumplin's biled dry
Aathings gein wrang fitever I try.
The fairy's faen aff the tap o the tree
She wis feart o hichts bit of coorse she blamed me.
Santie he's grumbling cos there is ower muckle snaw,
Bit, och, am sure Prancer an the lave'll loup through it aa,
Bit foo aa the girnin it's Christmas the morn,
The day Jesus Christ oor saviour wis born.
So open up yer carol sheets an sing loud and clear,
An afore ye ken far ye are it'll be the New Year!