Wheeshity wheesht, ma bairnie,

The naisty men’s awaa.

Yer faither’s taen em bae the breeks

An cast em oot intil the snaa.

Here… sook upoan ma fing’r

While A hap ma mantle roon.

Yer veesiturs hae aa gaen hame,

There’s scarce a steir o soon.

The hirds are back upoan their hill,

The angels’ trumpets stowed,

The keengs hae sclimbt their camels

An til the east hae rowed.

There’s juist the beists wi steamin braith

Chow-chowin oan the bales,

An you an I in the cruisie licht

Wi this meenit tae oorsels.

An we maun mak the maist o it,

The only time we’ll huv,

Afore ye stert yer meenistry

O universal luv.

For sune ye’ll be the Christ-child,

An yer life thrang wi fowk,

Then God will tak ye frae me

An yirk ye tae He’s yowk.

Sae let’s hae oor praecious meenit

While I haud ye in ma airm,

Juist you an I thegither, son,

A mither an her bairn.