Auld Pier A stan an face the smirr that laces a northern wun, an listen tae the call o a gull as it hings abin the auld pier. Yince, a wid come doon here, an watch the fishing boats disgorge thir bluided crates o cod an crab an tope, thir takins fir the day. A’d listen tae the cries o gulls an fishermen, The jingle o tall masts, the cough o waitin trucks, the slap o wave and rope. The boats have gone lang since, thir catch no worth the chase. Auld ties hae broken doon, an the loch his emptied intae a changin sea.