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.