''Hail to your dimplin', wimplin' drop,
Clear, caller, caul',
That bids the drouthy traveller stop
An' tak' his fill.
Hail to your heart-reviving tipple
Enticing, slee wi' twinklin' ripple,
Thou crystal milk frae Nature's nipple,
Wee Mountain Well!
''Born of the whirlin' wintry flake
Of Arctic shower!
When charging storms the welkin rake
And scrudge the bower,
You joukit frae the furious blast
And seepin' doon the mountain past,
Till here my craig you weet at last;
Sine ower the stour.''
JAMES M. SLIMMON
sorry its in Scots, but in translation the thoughts is inevitably lost.